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THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

WANDERINGS IN THE 
SOUTH SEAS 




The Author and His Island Bride 



THE 
CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

WANDERINGS IN THE SOUTH SEAS 






BY 

WALTER E. TRAPROCK, F.R.S.S.E.U. 



WITH SEVENTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS 
AND A MAP 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 






00 



^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1921, BT 

g. p. Putnam's sons 

Printed in the United States of Amtrica 



0CT27iJi>! 

§)".!.A627463 



«N, Z. 



DEDICATION 
TO THE GIRLS WE LEFT BEHIND— 

KIPPIPUTUONA 

(Daughter of Pearl and Coral) 

LUPOBA-TLLAANA 

(Mist on the Mountain) 

BABAI-ALOVA-BABAI 

(Essence op Alova) 

THIS VOLUME IS LOVINGLY DEDICATED 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE 

Of late the lure of the South Seas has laid its 
gentle spell rather overwhelmingly upon American 
readers. To be unread in Polynesiana is to be 
intellectually declasse. ... In the face of this avid 
appetite for tropic-scented literature, one may well 
imagine the satisfaction of a publisher when offered 
opportunity of association with such an expedition 
as that of the Kawa, an association involving the 
exclusive privilege of publishing the manuscript of 
Walter E. Traprock himself. 

The public, we feel, is entitled to a frank word 
regarding the inception of this volume. Now at 
last it is possible to withdraw the veil of secrecy 
which has shrouded the undertaking almost until 
the date of publication. Almost, we say, because 
some inklings of information found their way into 
the newspapers early this summer. The leak, we 
have reason to be believe, is traceable to a Marque- 



x PUBLISHER'S NOTE 

san valet who was shipped at Papeete to fill the 
place left vacant by William Henry Thomas, the 
strange facts surrounding whose desertion are 
recorded in the pages which follow. 



pay 
[noth- 



_J»Ing so losF _ 
ian shell exploded clos? 
while his men were consol 
after the attack. 



"Filbert Islands" Found 

by South Seas Explorers 

> 

Special to The Evenino Teleartm- 
SAN FRANCISCO. Friday.— Returning 
from an extensive exploring trip In the 
South Seas, the auxiliary yacht Kawa, 
■which reached this port today, reports 
the discoevry of a hew group of Poly- 
nesian Islands The new archipelago 
has been named the Filbert Islands, be- 
cause of the extraordinary quantity of 
nuts of that name found there, accord- 
ing to the ship's company. 

The Kawa is owned by Walter E. 
Traprock, of Derby, Conn., head of the 
expedition. Traprock leaves for Wash- 
ington today, where he will lay before 
the National Geographic Society data 
concerning his explorations. 



The telltale newspaper item, reproduced above, 
outlines the story behind this volume. What is 
not made clear is the fact that the entire expedition 
was painstakingly planned many months ago, the 
publishers themselves making it financially possible 
by contracting with Dr. Traprock for his literary 



PUBLISHER'S NOTE xi 

output. Provision was also made for recording every 
phase of experience and discovery. With this in 
view, Dr. Traprock's literary attainments were 
complemented by securing as his companions the 
distinguished American artist, Herman Swank, and 
Reginald K. Whinney, the scientist. By this 
characteristic bit of foresight was the inclusive and 
authoritative character of the expedition's findings 
assured. 

How well we recall our parting with Traprock. 

"Any further instructions?" queried the intrepid 
explorer from the shadow of that ingenious yard- 
arm. 

"None," I replied. "You understand perfectly. 
Get the goods. See South Sea life as it actually is. 
Write of it without restraint. Paint it. Photo- 
graph it. Spare nothing. Record your scientific 
discoveries faithfully. Be frank, be full. . . ." 

"Trust us!" came back Traprock's cheery cry, 
as the sturdy little Kawa bore them toward their 
great adventures. 

Herein are recorded many of their experiences 
and discoveries, contributions of far-reaching sig- 
nificance and appeal. 

Uninfluenced by professional self-interest, un- 
shaken by our genuine admiration for its prede- 



xii PUBLISHER'S NOTE 

cessors, and despite our inherent inclination toward 
modest conservatism, we unhesitatingly record the 
conviction that "The Cruise of the Kawa" stands 
preeminent in the literature of modern explora- 
tion — a supreme, superlative epic of the South 
Seas. 

G.P.P. 



CONTENTS 

Chapter I 

We get under way. Polynesia's busiest corner. Our 
ship's company. A patriotic celebration rudely inter- 
rupted. In the grip of the elements. Necessary repairs. 
A night vigil. Land ho! Page 1 

Chapter II 

A real discovery. Polynesia analyzed. The astounding 
nature of the Filberts. Their curious sound, and its rea- 
son. We make a landing. Our first glimpse of the 
natives. The value of vaudeville .... Page 15 

Chapter III 

Our handsome hosts. En route to the interior. Native 
flora and fauna. We arrive at the capital. A lecture on 
Filbertine architecture. A strange taboo. The serenade. 

Page 29 

Chapter IV 

A few of our native companions. Filbertine diet. 
Physiological observations. We make a tour of the island. 
A call on the ladies. Baahaabaa gives a feast. The em- 
barrassments of hospitality. An alcoholic escape. 

Page 43 

Chapter V 

A frank statement. We vote on the question of matri- 
mony. A triple wedding. An epithalmic verse. We 
remember the Kawa. An interview with William Henry 
Thomas. Triplett's strategy Safe within the atoll. 

Page 59 
xiii 



xiv CONTENTS 



Chapter VI 

Marital memories. A pillow-fight on the beach. A deep- 
sea devil. The opening in the atoll. Swank paints a 
portrait. The fatu-liva bird and its curious gift. My 
adventure with the wak-wak. Saved! . . Page 75 

Chapter VII 

Excursions beyond the outer reef. Our aquatic wives. 
Premonitions. A picnic on the mountain. Hearts and 
flowers. Whinney delivers a geological dissertation. 
Babai finds a fatu-liva nest. The strange flower in my 
wife's hair Page 89 

Chapter VIII 

Swank's popularity on the Island. Whinney's jealousy. 
An artistic duel. Whinney's deplorable condition. An 
assembly of the Archipelago. Water-sports on the reef. 
The Judgment Page 103 

Chapter IX 

More premonitions. Triplett's curious behavior. A call 
from Baahaabaa. We visit William Henry Thomas. 
His bride. The christening. A nideous discovery. 
Pros and Cons. Out heart-breaking decision. A stirrup- 
cup of lava-lava Page 119 

Chapter X 

Once more the Kama foots the sea. Triplett's observa- 
tions and our assistance. The death of the compass- 
plant. Lost! An orgy of desperation. Oblivion and 
excess. The Kawa brings us home. Our reception in 
Papeete. A celebration at the Tiare . . . Page 135 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

The Author and His Island Bride. Frontispiece 

Captain Ezra Triplett 6 

A Bewildered Botanist 10 

The W. E. Traprock Expedition ... 22 

Babai and Her Taa-Taa 34 

Walter E. Traprock, F.R.S.S.E.U. ... 38 

Gathering Dew-Fish on the Outer Reef . 48 

Herman Swank 52 

LuPOBA-TlLAANA, MlST ON THE MOUNTAIN . 70 

Watchful Waiting 80 

Golden Harmonies . . . . - . .94 

William Henry Thomas 98 

The Lagoon at Dawn (Whinney's Version) . 108 

The Lagoon at Dawn (Swank's Version) . 112 

The Nest of a Fatu-Liva 124 

A Fledgling Fatu-Liva 130 

Baahaabaa Mourning the Departure of His 
Friends 140 



XV 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 



Chapter I 



We get under way. Polynesia's busiest corner. 
Our skip's company. A patriotic celebration 
rudely interrupted. In the grip of the elements' 
Necessary repairs. A night vigil. Land ho! 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Chapter I 

"Is she tight?" asked Captain Ezra Triplett. 
(We were speaking of my yawl, the Kawa). 

"As tight as a corset," was my reply. 

"Good. I'll go." 

In this short interview I obtained my captain 
for what was to prove the most momentous voyage 
of my life. 

The papers were signed forthwith in the parlor 
of Hop Long's Pearl-of-the-Orient Cafeteria and 
dawn of the following day saw us beyond the 
Golden Gate. 

I will omit the narration of the eventful but or- 
dinary occurrences which enlivened the first six 
months of our trip and ask my reader to transport 
himself with me to a corner with which he is doubt- 
less already familiar, namely, that formed by the 

s 



4 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

intersection of the equator with the 180th merid- 
ian. 

This particular angle bears the same relation to 
the Southern Pacific that the corner of Forty- 
second Street and Fifth Avenue does to the Atlan- 
tic Seaboard. More explorers pass a given point 
in a given time at this corner than at any other on 
the globe.* 

It was precisely noon, daylight-saving time, on 
July 4th, 1921, when I stood on the corner referred 
to and, strange to say, found it practically deserted. 
To be more accurate, I stood on the deck of my 
auxiliary yawl, the Kawa, and she, the Kawa, wal- 
lowed on the corner mentioned. To all intents and 
purposes our ship's company was alone. We had 
the comforting knowledge that on our right, as one 
faced the bow, were the Gilbert and Marshall 
groups (including the Sandwiches), on our left the 
Society, Friendly and Loyalty Archipelagoes, 
back of us the Marquesas and Paumotus and, di- 
rectly on our course, the Carolines and Solomons, 
celebrated for their beautiful women.f But we 
were becalmed and the geographic items mentioned 
were, for the time being, hull-down. Thus we 

* See L. Kluck, Traffic Conditions in Vie South Seas, Chap. IV., pp. 
83-92. 
t See "Song of Solomon," King James Version. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 5 

were free to proceed with the business at hand, 
namely, the celebration of our national holiday. 

This we had been doing for several hours, with 
frequent toasts, speeches, firecrackers and an occa- 
sional rocket aimed directly at the eye of the 
tropical sun. Captain Triplett, being a stickler 
for marine etiquette, had conditioned that there 
should be no liquor consumed except when the 
sun was over the yard-arm. To this end he had 
fitted a yard-arm to our cross-trees with a universal 
joint, thus enabling us to keep the spar directly 
under the sun at any hour of the day or night. 
Consequently our celebration was proceeding 
merrily. 

While in this happy and isolated condition let 
me say a few words of our ship's company. Having 
already mentioned the Captain I will dispose of him 
first. Captain Ezra Triplett was a hard-bitten 
mariner. In fact, he was, I think, the hardest- 
bitten mariner I have ever seen. He had been 
bitten, according to his own tell, man-and-boy, for 
fifty-two years, by every sort of insect, rodent and 
crustacean in existence. He had had smallpox 
and three touches of scurvy, each of these blights 
leaving its autograph. He had lost one eye in the 
Australian bush where, naturally, it was impos- 



CAPTAIN EZRA TRIPLETT 

The annals of maritime history will never be complete until the name of 
Captain Ezra Triplett of New Bedford, Massachusetts, receives the recogni- 
tion which is justly its. For more than ten generations the forebears of this 
hard-bitten mariner have followed the sea in its various ramifications. 
The first Triplett was one of the companions of Goswold who, in 1609, 
wintered on Cuttyhunk Island in Buzzard's Bay. From then on the mem- 
bers of this hardy New England family have earned positions of trust and 
honor. By courage and perseverance the subject of this portrait has worked 
himself up from cabin boy on the sound steamer Puritan (wrecked on 
Bartlett's Reef, 1898) to his present position of commander of the Kawa. 
Of his important part in connection with the historic cruise described in 
these pages, the Kawa's owner, Dr. Traprock, has no hesitancy in saying, 
"Frankly, without Triplett the thing never could have been done." The 
accompanying photograph was taken just after the captain had been hauled 
out of the surf in Papeete. It will be remarked that he still maintains 
an indomitable front and holds his trusty Colt in readiness for immediate 
action. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 7 

sible to find it. This had been replaced by a blue 
marble of the size known, technically, as an 
eighteen-er, giving him an alert appearance which 
had first attracted me. By nature taciturn, he was 
always willing to sit up all night as long as the 
gin was handy, an excellent trait in a navigator. 
About his neck he wore a felt bag containing ten 
or a dozen assorted marbles with which he fur- 
nished his vacant socket according to his fancy, and 
the effect of his frequent changes was both unusual 
and diverting. 

But sail! Lord bless you, how Triplett could 
sail! It was wizardry, sheer wizardry; "devil- 
work," the natives used to call it. Triplett, blind- 
folded, could find the inlet to a hermetically sealed 
atoll. When there wasn't any inlet he would wait 
for a seventh wave — which is always extra large — 
and take her over on the crest, disregarding the 
ragged coral below. The Kawa was a tight little 
craft, built for rough work. She stood up nobly 
under the punishment her skipper gave her. 

Triplett's assistant was an individual named 
William Henry Thomas, a retired Connecticut 
farmer who had chosen to end his days at sea. 
This, it should be remarked, is the reverse of the 
usual order. The back-lots of Connecticut are 



8 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

peopled by retired sea-captains who have gone back 
to the land, which accounts in large measure for 
the condition of agriculture in these communities. 
William Henry Thomas had appeared as Triplett's 
selection. Once aboard ship his land habits stood 
him in good stead in his various duties as cook, 
foremost-hand, butler and valet, for it must not 
be supposed that the Kama, tight though she might 
be, was without a jaunty style of her own. 

Our first-class cabin passengers were three, 
Reginald K. Whinney, scientific man, world wan- 
derer, data-demon and a devil when roused; 
Herman Swank, bohemian, artist, and vagabond, 
forever in search of new sensations, and myself, 
Walter E. Traprock, of Derby, Connecticut, editor, 
war correspondent, and author, jack-of -all-trades, 
mostly literary and none lucrative. 

Our object? What, indeed, but life itself! 

I had known my companions for years. We 
had been class-mates at New Haven when our 
fathers were working our way through college. 
How far away it all seemed on that torrid Fourth 
of July as we sat on the Kawas deck singing 
"Oralee", to which we had taught Triplett the bass. 
"Like a blackbird in the spring, 
Chanting Ora-lee. . . ." 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 9 

"Very un-sanitary," said Whinney, "a black- 
bird ... in the spring . . . very un-sani- 
tary." 

We laughed feebly. 

Suddenly, as they do in the tropics, an extraor- 
dinary thing happened. A simoon, a monsoon 
and a typhoon met, head on, at the exact corner of 
the equator and the 180th meridian. We hadn't 
noticed one of them, — they had given us no warn- 
ing or signal of any kind. Before we knew it they 
were upon us! 

I have been in any one of the three separately 
many a time. In '95 off the Blue Canary Islands 
I was caught in an octoroon, one of those eight- 
sided storms, that spun our ship around like a top, 
and killed all the canaries for miles .about — the 
sea was strewn with their bodies. But this! 

"Below," bellowed Captain Triplett, and we 
made a dive for the hatch. William Henry 
Thomas was the last in, having been in the bow 
setting off a pinwheel, when the blow hit us. We 
dragged him in. My last memory is of Triplett 
driving a nail back of the hatch-cover to keep it 
from sliding. 

How long we were whirled in that devil's grip of 
the elements I cannot say. It may have been a 



A BEWILDERED BOTANIST 

Here, against the background of a closely woven hedge of southern 
hornbeam (Carpinus Tropicalis), we see that eminent scientist, Reginald 
Whinney, in the act of discovering, for the first time in any country, a 
magnificent specimen of wild modesty ( Tiarella nuda), which grows in great 
profusion throughout the Filbert Islands. This tiny floweret is distantly 
related, by marriage, to the European sensitive plant (Plantus pudica) but 
is infinitely more sensitive and reticent. An illustration of this amazing 
quality is found in the fact that its snowy blossoms blush a deep crimson under 
the gaze of the human eye. At the touch of the human hand the flowers 
turn inside-out and shrink to minute proportions. Dr. Whinney attempted 
in vain to transplant specimens of this fragile creation to our old-world 
botanical gardens but found the conditions of modern plant life an in- 
superable barrier. The seeds of wild modesty absolutely refuse to germinate 
in either Europe or America. 




pq 



5 

U 

n 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 11 

day — it may have been a week. We were all below, 

battened down .... tight. At times we lost 

consciousness — at times we were sick — at times, 

both. I remember standing on Triplett's face 

and peering out through a salt-glazed port-hole at 

a world of waterspouts, as thick as forest trees, 

dancing, melting, crashing upon us. I sank back. 

This was the end . . . 

* * * 

Calm. Peace and sun! The beneficence of a 
warm, golden finger that reached gently through 
the port-hole and rested on my eye. What had 
happened? Oh — yes. "Like a blackbird in the 
spring." Slowly I fought my way back to con- 
sciousness. Triplett was sitting in a corner still 
clutching the hammer. On the floor lay Whinney 
and William Henry Thomas, their twisted legs 
horribly suggestive of death. 

"Air," I gasped. 

Triplett feebly wrenched out the nail and we 
managed to pull the hatch far enough back to 
squeeze through. Enlivened by the fresh air the 
others crawled slowly after, except poor William 
Henry Thomas who still lay inert. 

"He's all right," said Whinney. "The gin bottle 
broke and dripped into his mouth. He'll come to 



12 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

presently." He added in an undertone, "The 
wages of gin ..." Whinney was always quoting. 

Minus our factotum we stood and silently sur- 
veyed what once had been the Kama. The 
leathern features of Captain Triplett twisted into 
a grin. "Bald 's a badger!" he murmured. 

Everything had gone by the board. Mast, 
jigger, bow-sprit and running gear. Not a trace 
of block or tackle rested on the surrounding sea. 
We were clean-shaven. Of the chart, which had 
hung in a frame near the binnacle, not a line re- 
mained. All our navigating instruments, quad- 
rant, sextant, and hydrant, with which we had 
amused ourselves making foolish observations 
during that morning of the glorious Fourth, our 
chronometer and speedometer, — all had absolutely 
disappeared. 

"And there we are!" said Swank. 

Triplett coughed apologetically and pulled his 
forelock. 

"If you don't mind, sir, night'll be comin' on 
soon and I think we'd better make sail." 

"Make sail?" I murmured blankly. "How?" 

"The bedding, sir," said Triplett. 

"Of course!" I cried. "All hands abaft to make 
sail." 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 13 

How we knotted our sheets and blankets to- 
gether to fashion a rough main-sail would be a 
tedious recital, for it was slow work. Our com- 
bined efforts made, I should say, about eight knots 
an hour but half of them pulled out at the least 
provocation. We persevered, however, and finally 
completed our task. Nor were we an instant too 
soon, for just as we had succeeded in getting the 
oars to stand upright and were anxiously watching 
our well-worn army blankets belly out with the 
steady trade wind, the sun, which for the last 
hour had hung above the horizon, suddenly fell 
into the sea and night was upon us. 

"There's that," said Whinney quietly. 

Thus we slid through the velvet night with the 
Double Cross hanging low, sou'west by south. 

It must have been about an hour before dawn 
that a shiver of expectancy thrilled us unani- 
mously. 

"Did you hear that, sir?" said Captain Triplett 
in a low tone. 

"No . . . what was it?" 

"A sea-robin ... we must be near land . . . 
there it is again." 

I heard it that time . . . the faint, sweet note 
of the male sea-robin. 



14 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Shortly afterward we heard the mewing of a 
sea-puss, evidently chasing the robin. 

"Sure enough, sir," said Triplett. "It'll be 
land." Somehow we felt sure of it. 

In calm elation and tired expectancy we strained 
our eyes through the slow crescendo of the day's 
birth. Suddenly, the sun leaped over the horizon 
and the long crimson rays flashed forward to where, 
dead ahead, we could see a faint swelling on the 
skyline. 

"Land-ho!" we cried in voices of strangled joy. 

"Boys," said Captain Triplett, apologetically 
. . . "we ain't got no yard-arm, but the sun's up 
and there's land dead ahead, and I reckon . . ." 

He paused. Through the hatchway came 
William Henry Thomas bearing a tray with four 
lily cups. 

"Fair as a lily . . ." said Whinney (I knew he 
would). 

Two minutes later we had fallen into heavy 
slumber while the Kawa steered by the faithful 
Triplett, moved steadily toward our unknown 
haven. 



Chapter II 

A real discovery. Polynesia analyzed. The astound- 
ing nature of the Filberts. Their curious sound, 
and its reason. We make a landing. Our first 
glimpse of the natives. The value of vaudeville. 




Captain Ezra Triplett 



Chapter II 

There is nothing better, after a hurricane, than 
six hours' sleep. It was high noon when we were 
awakened by William Henry Thomas and the odor 
of coffee, which drew us to the quarter-deck. 
There, for the first time, we were able to make an 
accurate survey of our surroundings and realize 
the magnitude and importance of what had be- 
fallen us. While we slept Captain Triplett had 
warped the denuded Kawa through a labyrinth 
of coral and we now lay peacefully at anchor with 
the island lying close in-board. 

Its appearance, to put it mildly, was astonishing. 
Let me remind the reader that for the previous 
four months we had been prowling through the 
Southern Pacific meeting everywhere with dis- 
appointment and disillusionment. We had in- 
spected every island in every group noted on every 
map from Mercator to Rand-McNally without 

17 



18 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

finding any variation in type from, "A," the low 
lying coral-atoll of the well-known broken dough- 
nut formation, to, "B," the high-browed, mansard 
design popularized by F. O'Brien.* In a few of 
the outlying suburbs of Melanesia and the lower 
half of Amnesia, we had found a few designs which 
showed sketchy promise of originality: coral reefs 
in quaint forms had been begun, outlining a 
scheme of decoration in contrast with the austere 
mountains and valleys. But everywhere these 
had been abandoned. Either the appropriation 
had given out, or the polyps had gotten to squab- 
bling among themselves and left their work to be 
slowly worn away by the erosive action of sea and 
shipwrecked bottoms.! Add to the geographic 
sameness the universal blight of white civilization 
with its picture post-cards, professional hula and 
ooh-la dancers, souvenir and gift shops, automat 
restaurants, movie-palaces, tourists, artists and 
explorers, and you have some idea of the boredom 
which had settled down over the Kawa and her 
inmates. 

Only a few days before Whinney, usually so 

• This is the type "E", of Melville's overrated classification — Ed. 

t In Micronesia it was even worse, the islands offering a dead-level of 
mediocrity which I have never seen equalled except in the workingmen's 
cottages of Ampere, New Jersey, the home of the General Electric Company. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 19 

philosophical, had burst out petulantly with: 
"To hell with these islands. Give me a good 
mirage, any time." Swank and I had heartily 
agreed with him, and it was in that despondent 
spirit that we had begun our Fourth of July cele- 
bration. 

As we sat cozily on deck, sipping our coffee, it 
slowly dawned on us that we had made the amaz- 
ing discovery of an absolutely new type of island! — 
something so evidently virgin and unvisited that 
we could only gaze in awe-struck silence. 

"Do you know," whispered Swank, "I think 
this is the first time I have ever seen a virgin" — he 
choked for an instant on a crumb — "island." 

We could well believe it. 

The islands lay before us in echelon formation. 
The one in our immediate foreground was typical 
of the others. Its ground-floor plan was that of a 
circle of beach and palm enclosing an inner sea 
from the center of which rose an elaborate moun- 
tain to a sheer height of two thousand, perhaps 
ten thousand, feet. The general effect was that of 
a pastry masterpiece on a gigantic scale.* We 
could only stare in open-mouthed amazement, 

* Oddly enough the scene struck me as strangely familiar but it was not 
until weeks afterward that I recalled its prototype in the memory of a decora- 



20 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

thrilled with the thought that we were actually 
discoverers. A gorgeous feature of our find, in 
addition to its satisfactory shape, was its color. 
Sand and vegetation were of the conventional hues, 
but where the flanks of the rock rose from the en- 
closed pool we observed that they were of the pure 
elementary colors, red, blue and yellow, fresh and 
untarnished as in the latest masterpiece from the 
brush of the Master of All Painters. Here before 
our eyes was an unspoiled sample of what the 
world must have looked like on varnishing day. 

Swank, who is ultra-modern in his tendencies, 
was in ecstasies over the naive simplicity of the 
color scheme. "Look at that red!" he shouted. 
"Look at that blue!! Look at that yaller!!!" He 
dove below and I heard rattling of tubes and 
brushes that told me he was about to commit land- 
scape. This time I knew he couldn't possibly 
make the colors too violent. 

Fringing the exquisitely tinted coral strand were 
outlying reefs, alternately concave and convex, 
which gave the shore edge a scalloped, almost 
rococo finish, which I have heard decorators call 
the Chinese-Chippendale "effect." Borne to our 

turn worn by General Grosdenovitch, Minister very-extraordinary to Amer- 
ica from Montenegro just before the little mountain kingdom blew up with 
a faint pop and became absorbed by Jugo-Slovakia. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 21 

nostrils by an occasional reflex of the zooming 
trades came, ever and anon, entrancing whiffs of 
a brand new odor. 

It is always embarrassing to attempt to describe 
a new smell, for, such is our inexperience in the 
nasal field, that a new smell must invariably be 
described in terms of other smells, and by reason of a 
curious, inherited prudery this province has been 
left severely alone by English writers. I know of 
but one man, M. Sentant, the governor of Bat- 
tambang, Cambodia, who frankly makes a specialty 
of odors.* 

"J'aime les odeurs!" he said to me one day as 
we sat sipping a siem-bok on the piazza of the 
residency. 

"Mais il y en a des mauvaises," I deprecated. 

"Meme les mauvaises," he insisted, "Oui, sur- 
tout les mauvaises!'* 

But Sentant is unique. I can only say that as I 
sat sniffing on the deck of the Kawa there was 
about us a sowpcon of the je-ne-sais-quoi tropicale, 
half nostalgie, half diablerie. It was . . . but 
what's the use? You will have to go out there 
some time and smell it for yourself. 

* See Journal des Debate, Avril, '09, "Le nez triomphant" de Lucien 
Sentant. 



THE W. E. TRAPROCK EXPEDITION 

It is doubtful if a camera's eye ever recorded the presence of a more re- 
markable group than that presented on the opposite page. Here we see 
the ship's company of the yawl Kawa, assembled under the shade of the 
broad panjandrus leaves which fringe the Filbert Islands. They are, reading 
from left to right, William Henry Thomas, the crew; Herman Swank, 
Walter E. Traprock, Reginald Whinney. At their feet lies Kippiputuona 
(Daughter of Pearl and Coral). The black and white of photography can 
give no idea of the magnificent tropical coloring, nor of the exquisite sounds 
and odors which permeate every inch of the island paradise. At the moment 
of taking this picture, which was obligingly snapped by Captain Triplett, 
the entire party was listening to the thrilling cry of the fatu-liva bird. 
Captain Triplett had just requested the group to "listen to the little birdie" 
when the distant wood-notes were heard, the coincidence falling in most 
happily with the photographer's attempts to secure the absolute attention 
of his subjects. 




w 



w 



45 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 23 

I have mentioned the contour, color and fra- 
grance of our island. I now come to the strangest 
feature of all. I refer to its sound. I had for 
some time noticed a queer, dripping noise which I 
had foreborne to mention fearing it might be in- 
side my own head — a devilish legacy of our recent 
buffeting. You can imagine my relief when 
Whinney asked apologetically, "Do you fellows 
hear anything?" 

"I do!" was my rejoinder, seconded by Swank 
who had come up for air. 

We all listented intently. 

Though the sky was cloudless, a distinct patter- 
ing sound as of a light rain reached us. 

"Nuts ..." said Captain Triplett suddenly, 
spitting on the nose of a fish that had made a face 
at him. A glance through our mercifully pre- 
served field-glasses corroborated the Captain's 
vision. 

"For the love of Pete!" I gasped. "Take a 
squint at those trees." 

They were literally crawling with nuts and 
tropical fruits of every description. In the shadow 
of the broad panjandrus leaves we could see whole 
loaves of breadfruits falling unassisted to the 
ground while between the heavier thuds of cocoa- 



24 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

nuts and grapefruit we heard the incessant patter 
of light showers of thousands of assorted nutlets, 
singing the everlasting burden and refrain of these 
audible isles. It was this predominant feature — 
though I anticipate our actual decision — which 
ultimately settled our choice of a name for the 
new archipelago, — the Filbert Islands, now famous 
wherever the names of Whinney, Swank and Trap- 
rock are known. 

It was now about half-past two bells and an 
excellent time to make a landing, preparations for 
which were forthwith set in motion. Now, if ever, 
we had occasion to bless the tightness of the Kawa, 
for in the confusion below, somewhat ameliorated 
by the labors of William Henry Thomas, we found 
most of our duffle in good order, an occasional steth- 
oscope broken or a cork loose, but nothing to amount 
to much. Our rifles, side-arms, cartridges, camera 
and my bundles of rejected manuscript were as 
dry as ever. I was thankful as I had counted on 
writing on the other side of them. A tube of 
vermilion had run amuck among Swank's under- 
clothes but, in the main, we were intact. 

After some delay in getting our folding-dory 
stretched on its frame, due to Whinney's conten- 
tion that the bow and stern sections belonged on 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 25 

the same end, we finally shoved off, leaving William 
Henry Thomas to answer the door in case of 

callers. 

In the brief interval of our passage, I could not 
help noticing the remarkable submarine flora over 
which we passed. The water, perfectly clear to a 
depth of four-hundred and eighty-two feet, showed 
a remarkable picture of aquatic forestry. Under 
our keel spread limeaceous trees of myriad hues 
in whose branches perched variegated fish nibbling 
the coral buds or thoughtfully scratching their 
backs on the roseate bark. Pearls the size of 
onions rolled aimlessly on ocean's floor. But of 
these later; for the nonce our tale leads landward. 

As our canvas scraped the shingle we leaped out, 
tossing the dory lightly beyond the reach of the 
waves, and fell into the agreed-upon formation. 
Triplett in the van, then Whinney, Swank and 
myself, in the order named. Beyond the beach 
was a luxuriant growth of haro* Into this we 
proceeded gingerly, intrepid and alert, but ready to 
bolt at the slightest alarm. 

The nut noises became constantly more ominous 
and menacing, but still we saw no sign of human 

* Similar to the photographer's grass; is used in the foreground of early 
Sarony full lengths. I have seen a similar form of vegetation just off 
the fairway of the third hole at Garden City. 



26 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

life. Near the edge of the forest we came to a halt. 
Plainly it would be unwise to venture within range 
of the arboreal hailstones without protection, for 
though our pith-helmets were of the best quality 
they were, after all, but pith, and a cocoanut is a 
cocoanut, the world over. While we were debat- 
ing this point and seeking a possible way into the 
jungle which was not overarched by trees I heard 
a low bird-call, as I supposed, the even-song of the 
crossbilled cuttywink. On the instant a towering 
circle of dark forms sprang from the haro and at a 
glance I saw that we were completely surrounded 
by gigantic Filbertines! 

Darting a look over my shoulder I noted to my 
dismay an enormous land-crab towing our dory 
seaward. It was a harrowing moment. As agreed 
upon, we waited for Triplett to take the initiative 
and in the interim I took a hasty inventory of 
our reception committee. The general impression 
was that of great beauty and physique entirely 
unadorned except for a narrow, beaded water-line 
and pendent apron (rigolo in the Filbertine lan- 
guage) consisting of a seven-year-old clam shell 
decorated with brightly colored papoo-reeds. The 
men's faces were calm, almost benign, and as far as 
I could see unarmed except for long, sharply pointed 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 27 

bundles of leaves which they carried under their 
arms. Their tattooing was the finest I have ever 
seen. 

At this moment, however, my observations were 
concluded by Triplett's suddenly wheeling and 
saying sharply, "Traprock! . . . target practice!" 

This was a stunt we had often performed for the 
amusement and mystification of kindly cannibals 
in the Solomons. I had seen it in vaudeville and 
taught it to Triplett. As was my custom, I had 
in the pocket of my singlet a number of ship 
biscuit. Plucking out one of these I placed it on 
my forehead and nose, holding it in place with the 
index finger. Triplett leveled his Colt a good yard 
above my head and fired, I on the instant pressing 
the biscuit so that it fell in pieces to the ground. 

The effect on the Filbertines was marvelous. 

They were too simple to be afraid. Their one 
emotion was wonder. Then Swank, grinning 
broadly, uttered the one word, "Cinch!" 

To a nation which had never heard a word end- 
ing in a consonant, this was apparently intensely 
humorous. They burst into loud guffaws, sup- 
plemented with resounding slaps of their cupped 
hands on their stomachs, at the same time raising 
an imitative cry of "Sink-ka! Sink-ka!" 



28 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

This was our welcome to the Filbert Islands, 
and also the beginning of the formation of that new 
tongue, Filbertese or nut-talk, which in the ensuing 
months was to mean so much to our small but 
absolutely intrepid band. 



Chapter III 

Our handsome hosts. En route to the interior. 
Native flora and fauna. We arrive at the capitol. 
A lecture on Filbertine architecture. A strange 
taboo. The serenade. 



Chapter III 

With the first burst of laughter it seemed that 
all embarrassment on the part of the natives had 
been dissipated. Those nearest us insisted on 
patting our stomachs gently, at the same time 
uttering a soft, crooning "soo-soo,"* which it 
was obviously the proper thing to return, which we 
did to the delight of the bronze warriors about us. 

After a few moments of this friendly massage, 
the most ornamental of the savages, whom I 
judged to be the chief, uttered dissyllabic command 
of "Oo-a," and slapped his right thigh smartly 
with his left hand, a feat more easily described than 
accomplished. Coincident with this signal came 
a cheerful riffling sound as the Filbertines broke 
out their large umbrellas of panjandrus leaves 
which we had first mistaken for weapons. This 
implement, (known technically as a naa-naa or 

* This same sound is used by the natives of Sugar Hill, New Hampshire, 
when calming their horses. 

SI 



32 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

taa-taa, depending on whether it was open or 
closed), was in reality not only a useful and neces- 
sary protection against the continuous nut-showers 
but also a weapon of both of -and de-fensive war- 
fare.* 

We stood thus, in open formation, among the 
luxurious haro until in response to another signal 
from the chief, a resounding slap on the left shank, 
they escorted us ceremoniously along a winding 
path which led toward the interior of the island. 
It was for all the world as if we were being taken 
out to dinner, a thought which suggested for an 
instant the reflection that we might turn out to be 
not guests but courses at the banquet, in which case 
I promised myself I should be a piece-de-resistance 
of the most violent character. 

But these solemn thoughts were not proof 
against the gaiety of our surroundings, the soft 
patter of the constantly dropping nuts bounding 
from the protective taa-taas, and the squawks 
and screeches of countless cuttywinks and fatu- 
liva birds, those queens of the tropics whose 
gorgeous plumage swept across our path. 

* This primitive people we soon found to be profoundly pacifistic, a natural 
condition in a race who, since tbe dawn of time, had known no influence 
other than that of the Pacific Ocean. Warfare with its cruel attributes had 
never penetrated their isolation. With nations as with people, it takes two 
to make a quarrel. Here was but one. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA S3 

For Whinney and Swank as well as myself the 
promenade was a memorable one, the former 
feasting his cool eyes on the hundreds of new 
scientific items which he was later to classify, the 
bulbons oo-pa, sl sort of vegetable cream-puff, the 
succulent tuki-taki, pale-green with red dots, a 
natural cross between the banana and the cocoanut, 
having the taste of neither, and the numerous 
crawling things, the whistling-ants and shy, lamp- 
eyed lily-bugs (anchoridae flamens) who flashed 
their signals as we passed. 

Swank revelled in the rainbow colors about us, 
the flaming nabiscus blossoms and the unearthly 
saffron of the alova blooms, one inhale of which, 
we were to learn, contained the kick of three old- 
fashioned mint-juleps. Only Triplett's hard-boiled 
countenance reflected no interest whatever in his 
surroundings. 

It was doubtless this unintelligent dignity on 
our Captain's part, coupled with what was left 
of his brass buttons and visor cap on which the 
legend "Kawa" still glimmered faintly, which 
prompted the aborigines to select him as our chief, 
an error which I at first thought of correcting by 
some sort of dramatic tableau such as having 
Triplett lie down and letting me place my foot on 



BABAI AND HER TAA-TAA 



In this picture the joyous island queen Babai-AIova-Babai is seen carrying 
her taa-taa, the curious implement which serves so many purposes in the 
Filbert Group. It is in turn a protection against the sun, the rain and the 
constant showers of falling nuts, and also, when occasion demands, a most 
effective weapon of defensive warfare. The taa-taa is made of closely laced 
panjandrus leaves on a frame of the tough eva-eva. When closed, which is 
seldom, it is known as a naa-naa. In addition to its other uses it is most 
evidently a charming background for a splendid example of Filbertine 
youth and beauty. 




a 
a 
H 
t* 

v 

X 

■o 
a 



« 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 35 

his Adam's apple, of which he had a splendid 
specimen. On second thought, however, I decided 
that it would be more modest to allow him any 
honors he might receive together with the re- 
sponsibilities attendant upon his position. It is 
the invariable habit of South Sea Islanders, in the 
event of trouble, to capture and hold as hostages the 
chief men of a tribe. Their heads, with or without 
the original bodies, seem to have a peculiar value. 

Soon the trail widened, and we were called upon 
to hurdle several low barriers of papoo-reeds , 
designed to confine the activities of the countless 
Alice-blue wart-hogs which whined plaintively 
about our feet. At a majestic gesture from the 
chief the taa-taas were furled (becoming naa-naas)> 
and we halted in a bright clearing about sixty feet 
in diameter, plainly the public square, or, to be 
exact, circle. 

My first impression was that of complete isola- 
tion in an unbroken forest. Peer as I would, I 
could discern no sign of human habitation. We 
had arrived, but where? My question was soon 
answered. By most gracious gestures, soft sounds 
and a series of fluttering finger exercises on the 
abdominal walls we were led to one side of the 
circle where, as our guides pointed upward, white 



36 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

eyes for the first time in history rested on a 
Filbertine dwelling! 

The houses were in the trees! 

Architecture is said to express deeply the inner 
characteristics of a people, a statement I am glad 
to corroborate. But never had it struck me so 
forcibly as now. Gazing up at a dim picture of 
informal construction, interlaced and blended with 
the trunks, boughs and foliage of the overarching 
palms I saw at a glance the key-note of the life of 
this simple people — absence of labor. 

The houses, — nests, were the better word — were 
formed by a most naive adaptation of natural sur- 
roundings to natural needs. The curving fronds 
of the towering coco-palms and panjandrus had 
been interlaced; and nature did the rest, the 
gigantic leaves interweaving, blending, over-lap- 
ping, meeting in a passionate and successful desire 
to form a roof, proof alike against sun and rain. 
Some ten feet below this and an equal distance 
from the ground the tendrils of the eva-eva 
vine had been led from tree to tree, the sub- 
ordinate fibres and palpitating feelers quickly 
knitting themselves into a floor with all the 
hygienic properties and tensile strength of linen- 
mesh. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 37 

Access to these apartments was something of a 
puzzle until, to instruct us, a tall Filbert, who was 
evidently to be our neighbor, approached a near- 
by dwelling and, seizing a pendent halyard of 
eva-eva, gently but firmly pulled down the floor 
to a convenient level, vaulted into the hammock- 
like depression and was immediately snapped into 
privacy. From below we could see the imprint 
of his form rolling toward the center of his living- 
room and then the depressions of his feet as he 
proceeded to lurch about his dwelling. 

It was now mid-afternoon; we were hot, tired, 
and, though we did not know it, mildly intoxicated 
by the inhalations of alova which we had ab- 
sorbed during our journey. I looked forward 
eagerly to getting up-stairs, so to speak, and taking 
a sound nap. One thing only deterred me; I was 
thirsty. 

On the edge of the clearing I heard the tinkling 
of a brook. Walking to its edge, I knelt and dipped 
my hot wrists in the cold stream, wetting my 
hands, face and matted locks, while the natives 
eyed me solemnly but with, I thought, looks of 
anxiety. And then a strange thing happened. 
As I took off my duck's-back fishing hat, filled it 
to the brim and raised it to my lips, a cry of horror 



WALTER E. TRAPROCK. F. R. S. S. E. U. 

This striking likeness of Dr. Traprock, the author of the present volume, 
admirably expresses the intensity, alertness and intrepidity which have 
carried this remarkable personage through so many harrowing experiences. 
A certain bold defiance, which is one of Dr. Traprock's characteristics, has 
here been caught to the life. With just this matchless courage we know 
that he must have faced death a thousand times even though, as now, he 
had not a cartridge in his belt. That Dr. Traprock knows no fear is evi- 
denced by the fact that he has not only explored every quarter of the globe, 
but that he has also written a number of books of travel, plays, musical 
comedies and one cook-book. The background of this picture shows the 
densely matted bush of the Filbert Islands in their interior portion, a jungle 
growth which might well baffle any but the most skillful threader of the 
trackless wilds. The gun carried by Dr. Traprock is a museum-piece, 
having been presented to the author's great-grandfather by Israel Putnam 
immediately after the Battle of Fort Ticonderoga. Thanks to constant 
upkeep it is in as good condition as ever. This is also true of Dr. Traprock. 




Walter E. Traprock, F.R.S.S.E.U. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 39 

burst from the throats of those swarthy giants. 
The chief strode forward and dashed the cap from 
my hand, at the same time thundering the word 
"Bapoo!" 

In an instant it flashed upon me that this was 
Filbertese for tapu or taboo, that strange, sacred 
kibosh which is laid on certain acts, objects or 
localities throughout these far-flung islands. Water 
it appeared was for drinking purposes — bapoo. 
I then did what I think was exactly the right thing 
under the circumstances, namely, to wring out 
the offending head-covering and throw it as far 
from me as possible, an act which was greeted 
with a hearty burst of applause. 

It was not necessary for me to indicate further 
that I was thirsty. Two henchmen almost im- 
mediately appeared with a large nut-shell of un- 
familiar appearance, — it was about the size of a 
half watermelon and bright red on the outside, — 
full of a pale pink liquid. The chief, one or two 
of the leading men, and the rest of my party were 
similarly equipped. Raising his shell the chief 
and nobles said simultaneously "Wha-e-a" and we 
drank. 

Two minutes afterward I had a faint sensation 
of being borne away by the trade wind. Swank 



40 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

was beside me and I heard him murmur, "I'm glad 
I don't have to sleep with Triplett." 

The rest was silence, and the silence was rest. . . . 

We awoke many hours later. It was moonlight 
and we were lying in a complicated knot in the 
exact center of our domicile. Unraveling our- 
selves we tested our heads with gentle oscilla- 
tions. 

Suddenly, in the distance, we heard a sound which 
sent a chill thrill running up and down our spines, 
the sound of singing, a faint far-off chorus of the 
loveliest voices that ever fell on mortal ears. The 
tone had that marvelous silver clang of the wood- 
land thrush with yet a deeper, human poignancy, 
a note of passionate longing and endearment, shy 
but assertive, wild, but oh! so alluring. We 
chinned ourselves expectantly on the edge of our 
floor and waited, panting. 

"A serenade," whispered Swank, and Whinney 
shush-ed him savagely. 

Through the forest glades we could see the choir 
approaching, the dusky flash of brown bodies 
swaying, palpitating to the intoxicating rhythm of 
the song. Slowly and with great dignity they 
entered the clearing and stood, a score of slender 
creatures, in the full blaze of the moon, their lithe- 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 41 

limbed bodies clad only in delicate mother-of-pearl 
rigolos. 

Thus standing, they again burst into the melody 
of their national love-song. I transcribe the 
original words which for simple, primitive beauty 
are without rival. 

A -a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a 
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e 



I-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i 

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o 

TJ-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u 

and sometimes 
W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w 

and 
Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y 

The music is indescribable, I can only say that 
it is as beautiful as the words.* 

On the third encore they turned and slowly but 
surely filed out of the clearing into the forest. 
Long after they had disappeared our eyes still 

* "The peculiarly liquid quality of Polynesian phonetics is impossible for 
foreigners to acquire. Europeans who attempt a mastery of these sounds 
invariably suffer from what etymologists call metabelia, or vowel com- » 
plaint." — Prof. C. U. Towne, Nyack University. 



42 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

hung over the edge of our apartment and we could 
hear in our memories the sweet refrain — 

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w 
Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y 

As we lay there like men in a trance I saw a dull 
red glow on the horizon and then, far off a rocket 
split the velvet night, burst into stars and dis- 
appeared. 

It was William Henry Thomas, aboard the 
Kawa — a signal of distress! Poor goof! We had 
completely forgotten him. 

I had a vague sense, shared, I think, by the others, 
that I ought to worry a bit about him. But it 
was no use. One by one we lowered ourselves 
into the pit of our aboreal home and drifted into 
delicious languorous reveries, not of William 
Henry Thomas. We had other things to think 
about. 



Chapter IV 

A few of our native companions. Filbertine diet. 
Physiological observations. We make a tour of 
the island. A call on the ladies. Baahaabaa 
gives a feast. The embarrassments of hospitality. 
An alcoholic escape. 



Chapter IV 

"We really must do something about William 
Henry Thomas," I said on the day following our 
serenade. 

My companions agreed, and we really meant it. 
But alas, how easy it is to put things off. Day 
after day slipped by and we thought less and 
less of our boat-tending sailorman and more 
and more of what a magnificent time we were 
having. 

The chief's name was Baahaabaa, meaning in 
Filbertese "Durable Drinker." Among his com- 
panions were several who soon became our in- 
timates — Hitoia-Upa (Cocoanut That Never Falls) 
and Abluluti (Big Wind Constantly Blowing). 

In every case reference in names was to simple, 
natural beauties. How much more interesting 
than our own meaningless nomenclature. 

We soon found that these simple folk had 

45 



46 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

evolved an admirable standard day in which there 
was no labor whatever, no cooking, even. Imagine 
a civilization, and I use the word advisedly, in 
which the question of having or not having a cook 
is eliminated. We were two weeks on the island 
before any one of us realized that we had seen no fire. 
The matches which we used to light our pipes were 
thought to be marvelous flowers that blossomed 
and immediately disappeared. 

Nature, all bountiful, supplied a menu of amaz- 
ing variety. Fruits, vegetables, combinations of 
the two, edible flowers and, above all, the thousand 
and one kinds of nuts from which the islands 
receive their name, were at hand for the plucking. 
Our breakfast grew on the ceiling of our bedroom 
and dropped beside us with charming punctuality 
at the first shiver of the rising trade. 

It must not be supposed that we were strict 
vegetarians. Many varieties of fish and Crustacea, 
as well as certain insects and some of the smaller 
birds were eaten raw. European and American 
civilizations alike are hopelessly backward in this 
regard. True, we eat with avidity oysters and 
clams (except in the Bapoo-period), knowing that 
they are not only raw but also alive. In the Filberts 
it was but a slight step forward to pop into one's 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 47 

mouth a wriggling limpataa (a kind of marine 
lizard), whose antics after he is swallowed are 
both pleasant and novel. The hors d'oeuvre 
course of a Filbert Island banquet is one roar of 
laughter caused by the interior tickling of the agile 
food. This of course promotes good feeling and 
leads to many lasting friendships. 

With one's meals thus always ready-to-serve, 
with no cook glowering at the clock, no cheese 
souffle ready to collapse, no dishes to wash or 
frying-pans to scour, life is one long gastronomic 
song. 

In physical stature and beauty the Filbertines 
are far above the average. The men are six feet 
in height and upwards, and proportionately wide. 
By a combination of equable climatic and economic 
conditions this altitude has become standardized 
and there is little variation from it. A sort of 
rough control is exercised in this regard. When a 
young male Filbertine has got his growth he is 
measured with a bamboo yardstick to see if he 
comes up to requirements. 

If not, he simply disappears. Little is said 
about it, but the fact is that the physical failures 
are moored at low tide to a lump of coral on one 
of the outer reefs. Sharks, octopi and the man- 



GATHERING DEW-FISH ON THE OUTER REEF 

There is no pleasanter sight in the world than that of the stalwart young 
Filbertine youths gathering dew-fish in the early dawn of a perfect tropical 
day. It is only at this time that these edible little creatures can be caught. 
Just as the sun's rays flash across the horizon they rise to the surface of the 
water in vast numbers, turning the entire ocean to a pulsating mirror of 
silver. For five minutes they lie thus, then suddenly sink simultaneously. 
Their work for the day, so far as we know it, is done. The natives fill their 
cheeks — which are very elastic — with hundreds of these tiny fish which they 
afterwards eject on the shore. Here we see Hitoia-Upa and Ablutiluti 
gathering dew-fish for the great feast given in honor of Dr. Traprock and 
his companions. 




o 

a 
o 

i 

o 

a 
'C 

o 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 49 

eating Wak-waks do the rest. This, as I say, is a 
rough sort of control but effective.' 

In facial character the tribe is regular and well 
proportioned, presenting no traces of negroid 
antecedents. Noses are slender and slightly re- 
troussed, lips clean-cut, chins modestly assertive 
with lower jaws superbly adapted to cracking 
cocoanuts and oysters, foreheads low with suffi- 
cient projection at the eye-line for shade purposes. 
All in all, they are entitled to an A-plus in 
beauty and reminded me less of Polynesians than 
of a hand-picked selection of Caucasians who 
had been coated with a flat-bronze radiator 
paint. 

Beards, moustaches, imperials, goatees, side- 
whiskers and Gal ways are unknown, a fact which 
was to me strange considering the luxuriance of 
other vegetation until I learned that, from in- 
fancy, it is the custom of the Filbertine mother to 
scour her offspring's face with powdered coral 
which discourages the facial follicles. These even- 
tually give up and, turning inward and upward, 
result in a veritable crown of glory on the top of 
the head, the place, after all, where the hair ought 
to grow. Their teeth, as with most gramnivora, 
are sound, regular, brilliantly white and excep- 



50 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

tionally large, the average size being that of the 
double-blank domino. 

So much for the men, and far too much, if you 
ask me, when you think that we still have the 
adorable women to speak of. 

Ever since our first nocturnal glimpse of the 
charming creatures you can imagine that my 
companions and I were most eager to see more of 
them. During the entire next day not one of 
"les belles sauvages" was visible. It was next to 
impossible to make inquiries, but Swank, the ir- 
repressible, resolved to try and plied Baahaabaa 
with questions in French, English, German and 
beche-de-mer, which only resulted in loud laughter 
on the part of our host. Swank next tried panto- 
mime, using the French gesture for beauty, a 
circular motion of the hands about his face ac- 
companied by sickening smiles. Baahaabaa 
watched him intently, slapped his hip sharply, 
uttering a melodious command and shortly after- 
ward Hitoia-Upa presented Swank with a beauti- 
fully made wreath of elecampane blossoms (inula 
helenion) exactly matching his beard. This was 
all very well but got us nowhere. 

On the day following, however, our difficulties 
were unexpectedly solved. Abluluti and a com- 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 51 

panion of his, Moolitonu (Bull-lost-in-a-Thunder- 
Storm), indicated by certain large gestures that if 
we liked they would be glad to make a tour of 
the island, a proposition we gladly accepted. 
Moolitonu was our official map. On his broad 
back in the most exquisite azure tattooing was a 
diagram of the island showing all main-routes, 
good and bad trails and points of interest. Moo- 
litonu was, in fact, a human Blue-book. 

Equipped with individual taa-taas and quart 
cocoanut shells of hoopa, a delicious twenty-seven 
per cent, milk, we set out along a well-traveled 
trail, stopping ever and anon to enjoy the tranquil 
beauty of the outer sea or the more spectacular 
glimpses of the inner lagoon dominated by the 
mountain. We had made the circuit of approxi- 
mately three-fourths of the island, when suddenly, 
without a word of warning, we stumbled into the 
Hativa-faui, or ladies' dressing-room. Instantly 
we were surrounded by a bevy of captivating 
beauties. Our guides had evidently counted on 
our surprise for they laughed uproariously, their 
mirth being joyously echoed by the graceful women 
who crowded about us, patting, petting and bidding 
us unmistakable welcome to their compound. I 
have never seen a more charming sylvan retreat. 



HERMAN SWANK 

Since the exhibition of Herman Swank's South Sea Studies in the Graham 
Galleries, New York City, it is hardly necessary to introduce by name the 
illustrious artist who has justly earned the title of "Premier Painter of 
Polynesia." A whole school of painters have attempted to reproduce the 
exotic color and charm of these entrancing isles. It remained for Herman 
Swank, by his now famous method of diagrammatic symbolism, to bring 
the truth fully home. This he accomplished by living, to the limit, the 
native life of the Filbertese. Clad only in the light lamitu, or afternoon 
wrap of the islands, it was the artist's custom to spend entire days inhaling 
the perfume of the fragment alova flower, a practice which undoubtedly 
accounts for the far-away, dreamy expression so evident in the photograph. 
He is also wearing the paloota, or wedding crown, the gift of his lovely island 
bride. 




Herman Swank 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 53 

Let me briefly outline the Filbertine domestic 
arrangements as they were gradually unfolded to 
us. To begin with, make no mistake, marriage 
in the Filbert Islands is a distinct success. This 
is accomplished by the almost complete separa- 
tion of the husband from his wives. During the 
day these joyous maids and matrons lead their 
own lives in their own community, rehearsing 
their songs, weaving chaplets of flowers, stringing 
pearls for their simple costumes, playing games 
and exchanging the badinage and gossip which 
are the life-breath of womanhood the world over. 
They are inordinately proud of their hair, as well 
they may be, and spend hours at a time dressing 
and undressing it. 

The men, on their side, are equally free. The 
result is that a meeting with their wives is an event. 
Happiness, love and the elation of celebration are 
the harmonious notes of this beautful domestic 
diapason. Feast-days, banquets, picnics, swim- 
ming parties — the Filbertines adore salt water, 
which is not potable but thirst-producing — these 
are the occasions of a frank and joyous mingling 
of the sexes. 

Before we left the clearing we were treated to a 
most graceful spectacle, a performance of the 



54 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Ataboi, a dance descriptive of the growth and 
blossoming of the alova flower. This was per- 
formed by seven beautiful girls to an accompani- 
ment of song and clapping. The plaintive love- 
motif was unmistakably introduced by a deep- 
chested dame who played on the bazoota, a primi- 
tive instrument fashioned from the stalk of the 
figwort (Scrophulariacece) . It may interest music 
lovers to know that the Filbertines employ the 
diatetic scale exclusively, four notes in the ascent 
and five on the recoil. 

At the close of the performance we were shown 
the nursery compound, an enclosure teeming with 
beautiful children, screened by hedges where the 
little ones could be heard but not seen. 

Two days subsequent to our amble we were 
invited to a grand banquet which led to disturbing 
problems and momentous decision on our part. 
This feast was our formal welcome; the keys of the 
islands, so to speak, were presented to us. There 
were ladies present — and everything. 

It was served in a special clearing lighted by 
the moon and countless anchoridae tied by their 
legs in festoons, a procedure which causes them to 
open and shut their lambent eyes very rapidly, and 
gave a quaint cinema effect to the scene. After 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 55 

counting the courses up to twenty-seven I lost 
as each was accompanied by a new brand of 
island potion. Fortunately we were seated on the 
ground. 

Triplett was in his glory. If I have failed to 
mention recently our hard-bitten old navigator it is 
only because we had seen comparatively little of 
him. Resting on his titular dignity as chief he 
seldom appeared in public, spending most of his 
time up his tree snoozing or reading an old copy of 
the New Bedford "Argus," which he was never 
without. Tonight, however, he blazed forth in 
full regalia, wearing his best blue marble, his visor- 
cap wreathed with nabiscus blossoms, his case- 
hardened countenance lighted with conviviality. 
Following an interminable period of eating and 
drinking came a long speech by Baahaabaa which, 
like most after-dinner speeches, meant nothing to 
me. Captain Triplett replied. The gist of Trip- 
lett's remarks, memorized from the "Argus," were 
taken from the 1916 report of the New Bedford 
Board of Trade. When he proclaimed that "be 
sides cotton goods, 100,000 pianos were turned out 
yearly and 8,500 derby hats every day," his 
audience, set off by Whinney, burst into up- 
roarious applause. The climax was reached when 



56 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

he lowered his voice dramatically and said, "And 
keep always in mind, O Baahaabaa and friends, 
that the New England Fur Company uses daily 
35,000 rabbit pelts! Gentlemen, I thank you." 

Pandemonium broke loose. Triplett was show- 
ered with congratulations. Music and dancing 
followed, among others an amazing performance 
by a sturdy youth, Zambao-Zambino (Young- 
Man-Proud-of-His-Waist-Line) who rendered a 
solo by striking his distended anatomy with his 
clenched fist, varying the tone by relaxing or 
tightening the abdominal muscles. Whinney sang 
a very dreary arrangement of Mandalay" — his 
one parlor trick; Swank did an imitation of Elsie 
Janis's imitation of Ethel Barrymore and I sang 
"The Wreck of the Julie Plante," an amusing 
ballad describing the loss by drowning of an entire 
ship's company. 

But the climax was yet to come. 

There was a vague sort of commotion among the 
banqueters and Baahaabaa rose with amazing 
steadiness and made another speech, short this 
time, but aimed point-blank at us, after which, 
through the center of a sort of kick-off formation 
I saw approaching four of the most exquisite 
women in the world. When ten feet away they 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 57 

fell on all fours and, using the Australian crawl- 
stroke, crept slowly toward us, exhaling sounds 
of passionate endearment mingled with the heart- 
stopping fragrance of alova. Beyond the glimmer- 
ing lights, an unseen choir burst into the "a-a-a" 
of the national love-song. 

It was a critical not to say embarrassing mo- 
ment. These lovely ladies were very evidently 
presents, banquet-favors so to speak, which we 
were expected to take home with us. To refuse 
them meant certain offense, perhaps death. Trip- 
lett was plainly non-plussed. Swank and Whinney 
were too far gone to be of any assistance. Sum- 
moning all my reserve strength I rose and faced 
the whirling assembly. 

"Gentlemen," I said solemnly, "one final toast, 
to the President of the United States," — at the 
same time draining a huge shell of hoopa. My 
companions followed suit and we fell simulta- 
neously. 

For the next twenty-four hours we were safe. 
After that, who knew? 



Chapter V 

frank statement. We vote on the question of 
matrimony. A triple wedding. An epithalamic 
verse. We remember the "Kawa." An inter- 
view with William Henry Thomas. TripletVs 
strategy. Safe within the atoll. 



Chapter V 

In most volumes on the South Seas the chapter 
which I am about to write would be omitted. I 
mean to say that we have reached a point in my 
narrative in which the status of our relations with 
the Filbertine women, as such, must either be 
discussed frankly and openly, or treated in the 
usual tongue-in-cheek fashion which seems to be 
the proper thing with English and American 
writers. 

I have looked them all over carefully (the writers, 
I mean), and find them divided into two categories, 
those who take their wives along as a guarantee of 
virtue, or those who are by nature Galahads, 
Parsifals and St. Anthonys. This latter group is 
to me particularly trying. They revel in descrip- 
tions of desirous damsels with burning eyes who 
crave companionship, but when an artfully devised 
encounter throws one of these passionate persons 

61 



62 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

across the path of the man behind the pen, does he 
falter or swerve or make a misstep ? Never. Right 
there is where the blood of the Galahads tells. 
Supremely he rises above temptation! Gracefully 
he sidesteps! Innocently he falls asleep! 

I don't believe a word of it. I think it's just a 
case of literary men sticking together. 

Two days after the Grand Banquet described in 
the last chapter, Whinney, Swank and I awoke 
with a sigh of simultaneous satisfaction, com- 
pletely rested and restored. Ten minutes later 
we were engaged in a brisk debate in which the 
question before the house was, stated boldly, 
Should we or should we not "go native?" In other 
words, should we hold ourselves aloof, live con- 
trary to the customs of the country and mortally 
offend our hosts, — to say nothing of our hostesses, 
— or should we fulfil our destinies, take unto our- 
selves island brides and eat our equatorial fruit, 
core and all? 

For the purpose of discussion Whinney was 
designated to uphold the negative, and for an hour 
we argued the matter pro and con. Whinney 
advanced a number of arguments, the difference 
in our nationalities, our standing in our home 
communities (which I thought an especially weak 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 63 

point), our lack of a common language, and 
several other trivial objections, all of which Swank 
and I demolished until Whinney got peevish and 
insisted that he and I change sides. 

I spoke very seriously of the lack of precedent 
for the step which we were considering and of 
what my people in Derby, Conn., would say when 
they learned that a Traprock had married a 
Filbert. Swank replied with some heat that he 
didn't believe that anything could be said in 
Derby that hadn't been said already and Whinney 
was much more eloquent on the affirmative than 
he had been on the negative. Finally when I 
thought we had talked enough I said — 

"Well, gentlemen, are you ready for a ballot?" 

"We are," said Swank and Whinney. 

"Remember," I warned, "The green nuts are 
for the affirmative, — the black ones for the 
negative. Secret ballots, of course." 

Wrapping our votes in metani leaves we dropped 
them in the ballot shell. Whinney was teller. 
It was an anxious moment until he looked up 
and said with a hysterical quiver in his voice : 

"Unanimously green." 

"Let's go!" shouted Swank, but I stopped 
him. 



64 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

"Hold on," I said. "Triplett is in on this. We 
agreed that it must be unanimous." 

My companions' faces lengthened like barrel- 
staves. 

"Damn," muttered Whinney. "I hadn't thought 
of him." 

You can imagine our disgust when we inter- 
viewed the Captain. 

"Not on your life!" he said decidedly. "Why, 
boys, I got two a 'em a-ready, one in Noo Bedford — 
she's my lawful, — and one — a sort of 'er dee- 
pendence, in Sausalito. But boys, I don't go for 
to commit trigonometry, no sir!" 

Thunder rested on our brows but the Captain 
continued, — 

"But you — you boys, you ain't married, least- 
ways if you are I don't know about it, and if you 
ain't" — he looked at us severely, — "if you ain't, 
it's high time you was. And what's more, if you 
want to be, I kin do it for you." 
"What do you mean?" we gasped. 
"Justice of the peace," he said proudly, "dooly 
signed and registered in Dartmouth County, 
Mass." 

We were overwhelmed. This was more than we 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 65 

dared hope for, — more than we had even dreamed 

of! 

"Now, boys," said the Captain in a fatherly 
tone, "lemme tell you something. While I've 
been a-roostin' up here in my perch, I've been 
a-watchin' you boys; a-watchin' an' a-worryin'. 
What have you been a-doin'? You've been a- 
raisin' hell, you have. Son, you ain't a rote a 
word, have yer? An' you, Whinney— boy, you 
ain't ketched a bug nor a beetle, have yer? And 
you, ole Swanko-panko, you ain't drawed a line, 
have yer?" 

We hung our heads like schoolboys before the 
master. Of course if Triplett put it that way, on 
moral grounds, so to speak, there was no more to 

be said. 

"Well, what's the answer?" he continued. "It's 
time you got married an' settled down, ain't it? 
When is it to be?" 



It was a triple wedding, the first and probably 
the last in the Filbert Islands, and one of the most 
charming affairs I have ever seen. We left the 
selection of our brides to Baahaabaa and, believe 
me, he showed himself a master-picker. The 



66 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

ceremony took place on the beach at high mid- 
night, the fashionable island hour. 

How happy we all were ! Triplett's qualifications 
had completely cleared the atmosphere of any 
moral misgivings which might have clouded the 
beauty of the gorgeous tropical night. The Cap- 
tain read a service of his own composition full of 
legal whereases and aforesaids and containing one 
reference to the laws of the Commonwealth of the 
State of Massachusetts which struck me as rather 
far-fetched but which under the circumstances I 
decided to let pass. 

Mrs. Traprock, of whom I can even now write 
only with deep emotion, was an exquisite creature, 
constructed in accordance with the best South 
Sea specifications in every particular. Swank 
and Whinney were equally fortunate. We would 
not have traded wives for ten tons of copra though 
Moolitonu, who was my best man, explained that 
this was perfectly possible in case we were not 
satisfied. 

The gayest of wedding breakfasts followed at 
which all the ushers behaved in the orthodox 
manner after which we were conducted to our in- 
dividual trees with appropriate processional and 
epithalamic chorals. The ladies' singing society 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 67 

had composed for the occasion a special ode which 
ran as follows: 

Hooio-hocrio uku kai unio, 
Kipiputuonaa aaa titi huti, 
tefi tapu, eio hoki 
Hoio-hooio ona haasi tui. 

This was set to a slow five-eighths rhythm. A 
crude translation of the words, lacking entirely 
the onomatopoetic quality of the original goes 
something like this: 

Stay, O stay, Moon in your ascending! 
Daughter of Pearl and Coral to the Moon up- 

goes, 
Stay, O stay, Moon with light unending, 
Coral, Pearl and Moonlight, guard them from 

falling cocoanuts. 

I should stand convicted of ingratitude if I 
did not here and now pay tribute to the sound 
common-sense of Captain Triplett at whose in- 
stigation we had embarked upon this our great 
adventure. As Triplett had predicted, ere a few 
days had passed we found awakening within us 
the fires of ambition which had sunk lower and 
lower in our breasts during our two weeks of 



68 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

carousing. We were now responsible married 
men. We wanted to do something to take our 
places in the community. 

I began to scribble furtively on the back of an 
old manuscript — the book of an operetta I had 
once written, a musical version of Les Miserables 
called "Jumping Jean," in reference to which one 
of the New York producers, Dillingham, I think, 
wrote me: "You have out-Hugo-ed Hugo; this is 
more miserable than Les Miserables itself!" I 
noticed also that Swank began to use his atelier 
jargon of "tonal values" and "integrity of line," 
while Whinney showed up one morning in the 
village circle with a splendid blossom of the 
bladder-campion (Silene latifolia) pinned to the 
center of his helmet. 

It was doubtless this renaissance of mental 
activity that reminded us of the Kawa and of 
William Henry Thomas. Great heavens, what 
would he think of us? Here nearly a month had 
elapsed, we were mostly married and had never 
given him a thought. We were filled with com- 
punction. On top of this Triplett came to us with 
the announcement that Baahaabaa had informed 
him that we might expect a big wind about this 
time. Remembering what we had been through 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 69 

the Captain was worried about our tight little 
craft. 

"He allows," said Triplett, jerking his thumb 
at the chief, "that we orter git the Tree-with- 
Wings in out'er the wet. The question is, where 
be she?" 

I explained our anxieties to Ablutiluti who, 
after a glance at Moolitonu's diagrammatic shoulder 
blades, immediately set out along a winding path 
to the shore. I was surprised at the shortness of 
the distance. A half-hour's walk brought us to 
the beach and there lay the Kawa as handy as you 
please. She had been considerably tidied up since 
our departure. Our blanket-sail had been stowed 
and between the dingey-oars, which were rigged 
fore-and-aft, stretched a rope of eva-eva from which, 
to our surprise, hung an undershirt and a dainty 
feminine rigolo. But no sign of William Henry 
Thomas. In vain we shouted, "Kawa ahoy!" and 
hurled lumps of coral. All was mysteriously quiet. 

Triplett finally pulled out his Colt and, being 
a dead shot, drilled the undershirt through the 
second button. This had the desired effect. Our 
crew almost immediately appeared on deck and 
shouted peevishly, "Hey there, quit it." 

I will not repeat what we said in reply as this 



LUPOBA-TILAANA, MIST ON THE MOUNTAIN 

Readers of the text may have noticed that animal life plays a very un- 
important part in the life of the Filbertines. Exception must be made in 
the case of a magnificent ooka-snake, the only one on the islands, which 
was the proudest possession of lovely Lupoba, who later became the wife 
of Herman Swank. The ooka-snake lives entirely upon cocoanut milk which 
gives him a gentle disposition admirably adapted for petting. Mr. Swank 
has confessed that his wife's fondness for the creature stirred in him a very 
real jealousy which, in view of the charming testimony of her portrait, we 
can well understand. A painting of Mrs. Swank by her husband has re- 
cently been purchased by the Corcoran Art Gallery of Washington, D. C. 




4> 



« 

o 
a. 
3 
- 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 71 

is a book for the home, but it had a surprising 
result. 

"Is that so?" yelled William Henry Thomas and 
proceeded to step jauntily over the rail and walk 
in our direction. I knew he couldn't swim a stroke 
and yet here he was, performing an apparent 
miracle right in our faces. Then it suddenly 
dawned on me — he was walking on the coral 
branches! 

It was not a particularly pleasant interview. 

After apologizing for our absence, which we 
attributed to illness, we broke the news as gently 
as possible that we were married. 

'Well," said William Henry Thomas, "so be 
I . . . the lady's on board." 

"You old land-crab!" blazed Whinney. "Who 
married you?" 

"She did,'' he replied. 

"But who performed the ceremony?" asked 
Swank. 

"Me," answered William Henry. 

In vain we tried to explain the necessity of 
proper rites. His only rejoinder was, "You're too 
late." 

But what made our sailor-man maddest was the 
information that the yawl had to be moved. 



72 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

"Here I be as snug as a bug in a rug," he 
stormed, "an' you go gallivantin' round marrying 
an' what all, an' now you show up an boost me 
out. Its e-viction, that's what it is, e-viction." 

This was a long speech for William Henry 
Thomas; fortunately it was his last. While he 
was delivering it I heard a slight splash and turned 
just in time to see a seal-like form slip over the 
Kawa's counter and disappear. I watched in vain 
for her reappearance. Doubtless like all Fil- 
bertines she could stay under water for hours at a 
time. After that Thomas sullenly did Triplett's 
bidding and half-heartedly assisted in the work of 
getting the Kawa into the atoll. 

It was an arduous task. For four days we 
labored, working our vessel close in shore opposite 
a clearing in the forest, where the outer island was 
not more than quarter of a mile wide and free from 
trees. Instructed by Triplett, we paved the high- 
way to the lagoon with cocoanuts. Our wives 
and friends thinking it was a game, assisted us. 
If they had known it was work they would, of 
course, have knocked off immediately. And 
then the promised storm broke and I saw Triplett's 
plan. 

It was such a storm as this, undoubtedly, that 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 73 

had struck us on July 4th. This time, crouched 
in the shelter of the near-by trees, clinging to the 
matted haro, we were free to watch a stupendous 
spectacle. Triplett alone went aboard and lashed 
himself to the improvised steering post. Our sail 
had been stretched and rigged with hundreds of 
yards of eva-eva, in addition to which four large 
taa-taas were lashed along the scuppers. 

In less time than it takes to tell, the wind had 
risen to super-hurricane force. Suddenly Baa- 
haabaa let out a yell of warning and pointed sea- 
ward. Rushing toward us at lightning speed was 
a wall of white water, sixty feet high! In a trice 
we were all in the treetops, my wife hauling me 
after her with praiseworthy devotion. All, did I 
say? All but Triplett. He was sublime. Then 
for the first time I knew that he was, in truth, our 
chief. Waving his free arm at the advancing 
maelstrom, he yelled defiance. Then this towering 
seawall hit him square in the stern. 

I caught one fleeting glimpse of the Kawa gal- 
lantly riding the foam. An instant later she was 
flung with a tremendous crash far down the leafy 
lane. Fully half the distance she must have gone 
in that first onslaught. The last eighth-of-a-mile 
she ground her way through a torrent of sea and 



74 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

cocoanuts. The forest rang with the bellowing 
wind, the snapping coral branches and the screams 
of the whistling- trout fighting vainly against 
the current. What a plan was Triplett's! The 
cocoanuts, being movable, rolled with the 
flood and actually acted as ballbearings. With- 
out them our craft must certainly have burst 
asunder. 

The storm passed as quickly as it had come and 
by the time we had clambered to the ground and 
rushed across the atoll there lay our tight little 
darling, peacefully at anchor in the still waters of 
the lagoon, with Triplett on her quarter-deck im- 
mersed in the New Bedford "Argus." 



Chapter VI 

Marital memories. A pillow-fight on the beach. A 
deep-sea devil. The opening in the atoll. Swank 
paints a portrait. The fatu-liva bird and its 
curious gift. My adventure with the wak-wak. 
Saved! 



Chapter VI 

I shall never forget a day when my bride and I 
sat on the edge of the lagoon after our matinal dip 
in its pellucid waters. It was a perfect September 
morn. So was she. 

"My dear," I said suddenly, "Hatiaa Kappa 
eppe taue." 

It sounds like a college fraternity but really 
means, "My woodlark, what is your name?" 

I had been married over a week and I did not 
know my wife's name. 

"Kippiputuonaa," she murmured musically. 

"Taro ititi aa moieha ephaa lihaha?" I ques- 
tioned, which, freely translated, is "What?" 

"Kippiputuonaa." 

Then, throwing back her head with its superb 
aureole of hair she softly crooned the words and 
music of the choral which the community chorus 
had sung on our wedding night. 

77 



78 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Hooio-hooio uku hai unio 
Kippiputunonaa aaa titi huti 

tefl tapu, eio hoki 
Hooio-hooio, one naani-tui. 

How it all came back to me! Leaning towards 
her, I gently pressed the lobe of her ear with my 
chin, the native method of expressing deep affec- 
tion. Her dusky cheeks flushed and with infinite 
shyness she lifted her left foot and placed it on 
my knee. Tattooed the length of the roseleaf sole 
in the graceful ideographic lettering of the islands 
I read — 

"Kippiputuonaa," (Daughter of Pearl and 
Coral) . 

"What an exquisite name!" I murmured, "and 
so unusual!" 

1 was awed. I felt as if this superb creature, 
my mate, had revealed to me the last, the most 
hidden of her secrets. I had heard of Mother of 
Pearl, — but of the Daughter — never . . . and I 
was married to her! 

"And you," she whispered, "are Naani-Tui, 
Face-of-the-Moon!" 

I liked that. Frankly I was a bit set up about 
it. It sounded so much better than Moon-face. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 79 

I thrust out my left foot, bare of any inscription, 
and she tickled it playfully with a blade of haro. 
Radiant Kippiputuonaa — whom I soon called 
"Kippy" for short — your name shall ever remain 
a blessed memory, the deepest and dearest wound 
in my heart. 

Kippy proposed that I should be marked for 
identification in the usual manner, but I shuddered 
at the thought. I was far too ticklish; I should 
have died under the needle! 

What days of joyous romping we had! One 
morning a little crowd of us, just the Swanks, 
Whinneys and ourselves, met on the beach for a 
pillow-fight. It was a rare sport, and, as the 
pillows were eighteen-inch logs of rapiti-wood, not 
without its element of danger. A half -hour of this 
and we lay bruised and panting on the beach 
listening to the hoarse bellowing of the wak- 
waks. 

The wak-wak is without exception the most out- 
rageous creature that ploughs the deep in fishy 
guise. For man-eating qualities he had the shark 
skinned a nautical mile. 

Whinney made a true remark to me one night, — 
one of the few he ever made. The ocean was 
particularly audible that evening. 



WATCHFUL WAITING 

There was something about the unfamiliar appearance of Dr. Traprock's 
yawl, the Kawa, which filled the beautiful native women with a wonder not 
unmixed with apprehension. This was particularly true of the lovely 
creatures who married the three intrepid explorers. The strange object 
which had brought to the islands these wonderful white men might some 
day carry them away again! In view of the tragic subsequent events there 
is something infinitely pathetic in this charming beach-study where Kip- 
piputuonaa is seen anxiously watching "the tree-with-wings" (as she naively 
called the yawl), where her husband, Dr. Traprock, is at work rigging a new 
yard-arm. The Kawa, unfortunately, is just out of the picture. 




*** 
O 

cd 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 65 

dared hope for, — more than we had even dreamed 
of! 

"Now, boys," said the Captain in a fatherly- 
tone, "lemme tell you something. While I've 
been a-roostin' up here in my perch, I've been 
a-watchin' you boys; a-watchin' an' a-worryin'. 
What have you been a-doin'? You've been a- 
raisin' hell, you have. Son, you ain't a rote a 
word, have yer? An' you, Whinney — boy, you 
ain't ketched a bug nor a beetle, have yer? And 
you, ole Swanko-panko, you ain't drawed a line, 
have yer?" 

We hung our heads like schoolboys before the 
master. Of course if Triplett put it that way, on 
moral grounds, so to speak, there was no more to 
be said. 

"Well, what's the answer?" he continued. "It's 
time you got married an' settled down, ain't it? 
When is it to be?" 



It was a triple wedding, the first and probably 
the last in the Filbert Islands, and one of the most 
charming affairs I have ever seen. We left the 
selection of our brides to Baahaabaa and, believe 
me, he showed himself a master-picker. The 



66 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

ceremony took place on the beach at high mid- 
night, the fashionable island hour. 

How happy we all were ! Triplett's qualifications 
had completely cleared the atmosphere of any 
moral misgivings which might have clouded the 
beauty of the gorgeous tropical night. The Cap- 
tain read a service of his own composition full of 
legal whereases and aforesaids and containing one 
reference to the laws of the Commonwealth of the 
State of Massachusetts which struck me as rather 
far-fetched but which under the circumstances I 
decided to let pass. 

Mrs. Traprock, of whom I can even now write 
only with deep emotion, was an exquisite creature, 
constructed in accordance with the best South 
Sea specifications in every particular. Swank 
and Whinney were equally fortunate. We would 
not have traded wives for ten tons of copra though 
Moolitonu, who was my best man, explained that 
this was perfectly possible in case we were not 
satisfied. 

The gayest of wedding breakfasts followed at 
which all the ushers behaved in the orthodox 
manner after which we were conducted to our in- 
dividual trees with appropriate processional and 
epithalamic chorals. The ladies' singing society 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 67 

had composed for the occasion a special ode which 
ran as follows : 

Hooio-hooio uku kai unio, 
Kipiputuonaa aaa titi huti, 
tefi tapu, eio hoki 
Hoio-hooio ona haasi tui. 

This was set to a slow five-eighths rhythm. A 
crude translation of the words, lacking entirely 
the onomatopoetic quality of the original goes 
something like this : 

Stay, O stay, Moon in your ascending! 
Daughter of Pearl and Coral to the Moon up- 

goes, 
Stay, O stay, Moon with light unending, 
Coral, Pearl and Moonlight, guard them from 

falling cocoanuts. 

I should stand convicted of ingratitude if I 
did not here and now pay tribute to the sound 
common-sense of Captain Triplett at whose in- 
stigation we had embarked upon this our great 
adventure. As Triplett had predicted, ere a few 
days had passed we found awakening within us 
the fires of ambition which had sunk lower and 
lower in our breasts during our two weeks of 



68 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

carousing. We were now responsible married 
men. We wanted to do something to take our 
places in the community. 

I began to scribble furtively on the back of an 
old manuscript — the book of an operetta I had 
once written, a musical version of Les Miserables 
called "Jumping Jean," in reference to which one 
of the New York producers, Dillingham, I think, 
wrote me: "You have out-Hugo-ed Hugo; this is 
more miserable than Les Miserables itself!" I 
noticed also that Swank began to use his atelier 
jargon of "tonal values" and "integrity of line," 
while Whinney showed up one morning in the 
village circle with a splendid blossom of the 
bladder-campion (Silene latifolia) pinned to the 
center of his helmet. 

It was doubtless this renaissance of mental 
activity that reminded us of the Kawa and of 
William Henry Thomas. Great heavens, what 
would he think of us? Here nearly a month had 
elapsed, we were mostly married and had never 
given him a thought. We were filled with com- 
punction. On top of this Triplett came to us with 
the announcement that Baahaabaa had informed 
him that we might expect a big wind about this 
time. Remembering what we had been through 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 69 

the Captain was worried about our tight little 
craft. 

"He allows," said Triplett, jerking his thumb 
at the chief, "that we orter git the Tree-with- 
Wings in out'er the wet. The question is, where 
be she?" 

I explained our anxieties to Ablutiluti who, 
after a glance at Moolitonu's diagrammatic shoulder 
blades, immediately set out along a winding path 
to the shore. I was surprised at the shortness of 
the distance. A half-hour's walk brought us to 
the beach and there lay the Kawa as handy as you 
please. She had been considerably tidied up since 
our departure. Our blanket-sail had been stowed 
and between the dingey -oars, which were rigged 
fore-and-aft, stretched a rope of eva-eva from which, 
to our surprise, hung an undershirt and a dainty 
feminine rigolo. But no sign of William Henry 
Thomas. In vain we shouted, "Kawa ahoy!" and 
hurled lumps of coral. All was mysteriously quiet. 

Triplett finally pulled out his Colt and, being 
a dead shot, drilled the undershirt through the 
second button. This had the desired effect. Our 
crew almost immediately appeared on deck and 
shouted peevishly, "Hey there, quit it." 

I will not repeat what we said in reply as this 



LUPOBA-TILAANA, MIST ON THE MOUNTAIN 

Readers of the text may have noticed that animal life plays a very un- 
important part in the life of the Filbertines. Exception must be made in 
the case of a magnificent ooka-snake, the only one on the islands, which 
was the proudest possession of lovely Lupoba, who later became the wife 
of Herman Swank. The ooka-snake lives entirely upon cocoanut milk which 
gives him a gentle disposition admirably adapted for petting. Mr. Swank 
has confessed that his wife's fondness for the creature stirred in him a very 
real jealousy which, in view of the charming testimony of her portrait, we 
can well understand. A painting of Mrs. Swank by her husband has re- 
cently been purchased by the Corcoran Art Gallery of Washington, D. C. 




4) 
J3 



a) 

O 

— 
3 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 71 

is a book for the home, but it had a surprising 
result. 

"Is that so?" yelled William Henry Thomas and 
proceeded to step jauntily over the rail and walk 
in our direction. I knew he couldn't swim a stroke 
and yet here he was, performing an apparent 
miracle right in our faces. Then it suddenly 
dawned on me — he was walking on the coral 
branches! 

It was not a particularly pleasant interview. 

After apologizing for our absence, which we 
attributed to illness, we broke the news as gently 
as possible that we were married. 

'Well," said William Henry Thomas, "so be 
I . . . the lady's on board." 

"You old land-crab!" blazed Whinney. "Who 
married you?" 

"She did," he replied. 

"But who performed the ceremony?" asked 
Swank. 

"Me," answered William Henry. 

In vain we tried to explain the necessity of 
proper rites. His only rejoinder was, "You're too 
late." 

But what made our sailor-man maddest was the 
information that the yawl had to be moved. 



72 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

"Here I be as snug as a bug in a rug," he 
stormed, "an' you go gallivantin' round marrying 
an' what all, an' now you show up an boost me 
out. Its e-viction, that's what it is, e-viction." 

This was a long speech for William Henry 
Thomas; fortunately it was his last. While he 
was delivering it I heard a slight splash and turned 
just in time to see a seal-like form slip over the 
Kama's counter and disappear. I watched in vain 
for her reappearance. Doubtless like all Fil- 
bertines she could stay under water for hours at a 
time. After that Thomas sullenly did Triplett's 
bidding and half-heartedly assisted in the work of 
getting the Kawa into the atoll. 

It was an arduous task. For four days we 
labored, working our vessel close in shore opposite 
a clearing in the forest, where the outer island was 
not more than quarter of a mile wide and free from 
trees. Instructed by Triplett, we paved the high- 
way to the lagoon with cocoanuts. Our wives 
and friends thinking it was a game, assisted us. 
If they had known it was work they would, of 
course, have knocked off immediately. And 
then the promised storm broke and I saw Triplett's 
plan. 

It was such a storm as this, undoubtedly, that 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 73 

had struck us on July 4th. This time, crouched 
in the shelter of the near-by trees, clinging to the 
matted haro, we were free to watch a stupendous 
spectacle. Triplett alone went aboard and lashed 
himself to the improvised steering post. Our sail 
had been stretched and rigged with hundreds of 
yards of eva-eva, in addition to which four large 
taa-taas were lashed along the scuppers. 

In less time than it takes to tell, the wind had 
risen to super-hurricane force. Suddenly Baa- 
haabaa let out a yell of warning and pointed sea- 
ward. Rushing toward us at lightning speed was 
a wall of white water, sixty feet high! In a trice 
we were all in the treetops, my wife hauling me 
after her with praiseworthy devotion. All, did I 
say? All but Triplett. He was sublime. Then 
for the first time I knew that he was, in truth, our 
chief. Waving his free arm at the advancing 
maelstrom, he yelled defiance. Then this towering 
seawall hit him square in the stern. 

I caught one fleeting glimpse of the Kawa gal- 
lantly riding the foam. An instant later she was 
flung with a tremendous crash far down the leafy 
lane. Fully half the distance she must have gone 
in that first onslaught. The last eighth-of-a-mile 
she ground her way through a torrent of sea and 



74 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

cocoanuts. The forest rang with the bellowing 
wind, the snapping coral branches and the screams 
of the whistling-trout fighting vainly against 
the current. What a plan was Triplett's! The 
cocoanuts, being movable, rolled with the 
flood and actually acted as ballbearings. With- 
out them our craft must certainly have burst 
asunder. 

The storm passed as quickly as it had come and 
by the time we had clambered to the ground and 
rushed across the atoll there lay our tight little 
darling, peacefully at anchor in the still waters of 
the lagoon, with Triplett on her quarter-deck im- 
mersed in the New Bedford "Argus." 



Chapter VI 



Marital memories. A pillow-fight on the beach. A 
deep-sea devil. The opening in the atoll. Swank 
paints a portrait. The fatu-liva bird and its 
curious gift. My adventure with the wak-wak. 
Saved! 



Chapter VI 

I shall never forget a day when my bride and I 
sat on the edge of the lagoon after our matinal dip 
in its pellucid waters. It was a perfect September 
morn. So was she. 

"My dear," I said suddenly, "Hatiaa Kappa 
eppe taue." 

It sounds like a college fraternity but really 
means, "My woodlark, what is your name?" 

I had been married over a week and I did not 
know my wife's name. 

"Kippiputuonaa," she murmured musically. 

"Taro ititi aa moieha ephaa lihaha?" I ques- 
tioned, which, freely translated, is "What?" 
Kippiputuonaa. ' ' 

Then, throwing back her head with its superb 
aureole of hair she softly crooned the words and 
music of the choral which the community chorus 
had sung on our wedding night. 

77 



78 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Hooio-hooio uku hai unio 
Kipjriputunonaa aaa titi huti 

tefl tapu, eio hoki 
Hooio-hooio, one naani-tui. 

How it all came back to me! Leaning towards 
her, I gently pressed the lobe of her ear with my 
chin, the native method of expressing deep affec- 
tion. Her dusky cheeks flushed and with infinite 
shyness she lifted her left foot and placed it on 
my knee. Tattooed the length of the roseleaf sole 
in the graceful ideographic lettering of the islands 
I read — 

"Kippiputuonaa," (Daughter of Pearl and 
Coral). 

"What an exquisite name!" I murmured, "and 
so unusual!" 

1 was awed. I felt as if this superb creature, 
my mate, had revealed to me the last, the most 
hidden of her secrets. I had heard of Mother of 
Pearl, — but of the Daughter — never . . . and I 
was married to her! 

"And you," she whispered, "are Naani-Tui, 
Face-of-the-Moon!" 

I liked that. Frankly I was a bit set up about 
it. It sounded so much better than Moon-face. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 79 

I thrust out my left foot, bare of any inscription, 
and she tickled it playfully with a blade of haro. 
Radiant Kippiputuonaa — whom I soon called 
"Kippy" for short — your name shall ever remain 
a blessed memory, the deepest and dearest wound 
in my heart. 

Kippy proposed that I should be marked for 
identification in the usual manner, but I shuddered 
at the thought. I was far too ticklish; I should 
have died under the needle! 

What days of joyous romping we had! One 
morning a little crowd of us, just the Swanks, 
Whinneys and ourselves, met on the beach for a 
pillow-fight. It was a rare sport, and, as the 
pillows were eighteen-inch logs of rapiti-wood, not 
without its element of danger. A half -hour of this 
and we lay bruised and panting on the beach 
listening to the hoarse bellowing of the wak- 
waks. 

The wak-wak is without exception the most out- 
rageous creature that ploughs the deep in fishy 
guise. For man-eating qualities he had the shark 
skinned a nautical mile. 

Whinney made a true remark to me one night, — 
one of the few he ever made. The ocean was 
particularly audible that evening. 



WATCHFUL WAITING 

There was something about the unfamiliar appearance of Dr. Traprock's 
yawl, the Kawa, which filled the beautiful native women with a wonder not 
unmixed with apprehension. This was particularly true of the lovely 
creatures who married the three intrepid explorers. The strange object 
which had brought to the islands these wonderful white men might some 
day carry them away again! In view of the tragic subsequent events there 
is something infinitely pathetic in this charming beach-study where Kip- 
piputuonaa is seen anxiously watching "the tree-with-wings" (as she naYvely 
called the yawl), where her husband. Dr. Traprock, is at work rigging a new 
yard-arm. The Kawa, unfortunately, is just out of the picture. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 81 

"Listen to that surf," I remarked. "I never 
heard it grumble like that before." 

"You'd grumble, if you were full of wak-waks" 
he said. 

The wak-wak has a mouth like a subway entrance 
and I was told that so great was his appetite for 
human flesh that when, as occasionally happened, 
some unfortunate swimmer had been eaten by a 
shark, a wak-wak was sure to come rushing up 
and bolt shark, man and all. Consequently I did 
most of my swimming in the lagoon. 

Speaking of the lagoon reminds me of an absurd 
bit of information I picked up from Kippy that 
made me feel as flat as a pressed fern. We were 
wandering along the shore one morning and she 
suddenly pointed to the Kawa and said laugh- 
ingly- 

"Why Tippi-litti (Triplett) bring Tree-with- 
Wings over Hoojpoi (cocoanuts) ?" 

"Why not swim?" she asked. "Look see. Big 
hole." 

I looked and saw. A whole section of the atoll 
near where we were standing was movable! 
Kippy jumped up and down on it and it rocked like 
a raft. At the edges I saw that it was lashed to the 
near-by trees with vines! Cheap? You could 



82 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

have bought me for a bad clam. As I thought 
of the days we had sweated over those damned 
cocoanuts, of Triplett's peril, of the danger to the 
yawl, while our very families looked on and 
laughed, thinking it was a game, and we might 
have slipped out the movable lock-gate and simply 
eased through — well, for the first time in my 
married life I was mad. Kippy was all tenderness 
in an instant. 

"Face-of-Moon, no rain," she begged, "Daughter 
of Pearl and Coral eat clouds." 

She chinned my ear passionately, and I was dis- 
armed in an instant. 

I hated to tell Triplett — it seemed to dim his 
glory, but I needn't have worried. 

"Good business," he exclaimed. "We can get 
her out inter the open an' have some sailin' parties. 
I'd like to catch one of them wak-waks." 

That was the sort Triplett was. He'd done 
his trick and there was an end of it. The next 
day he had William Henry Thomas busy re-rigging 
the Kama. William Henry Thomas, by the way, 
insisted on living on board in happy but unholy 
wedlock, and Whinney, Swank and I felt that it 
was better so. Somehow we considered him the 
village scandal. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 83 

During these peaceful days I wrote a great deal, 
posting up my diary as far as we had gone and 
jotting down a lot of valuable material. Swank 
had got his impedimenta off the boat and began 
daubing furiously, landscapes, seascapes, mono- 
types, ideographs, everything. Most of them were 
hideously funny, but he did one thing, — inspired by 
love, I suppose — a portrait of his wife that was a 
hummer. She was a lovely little thing with a 
lovely name, Lupoba-Tilaana, "Mist-on-the- 
Mountain." 

"Swank," I said, "that's a ten-strike. The 
mountain is a little out of focus but the mist is 
immense!" 

He squirted me with yellow ochre. 

Whinney was in his element. Ornithology, 
botany, ethulology, he took them all on single- 
handed. 

"Listen to that," he said to me one night as 
we were strolling back from a friendly game 
of Kahooti with Baahaabaa and some of our 
friends. 

I listened. It was the most unearthly and at the 
same time the most beautiful bird-song I have ever 
heard. 

"What is it?" I asked, as the cry resounded 



84 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

again, a piercing screech of pain ending in a long 
yowl of joy. 

"It is the motherhood cry of the fatu-liva," he 
said. "She has just laid an egg." 

"But why the note of suffering?" I queried. 

"The eggs of the fatu-liva are square," said 
Whinney, and I was silenced. 

Motherhood is indeed the great mystery. Little 
did I realize that night how much I was to owe to 
the fatu-liva and her strange maternal gift which 
saved my life in one of the weirdest adventures 
that has ever befallen mortal man. 

It was a placid day on the sea and Kippy and I 
were returning from a ten-mile swim to a neighbor- 
ing island whither I had been taken to be shown off 
to some relatives. 

"Wak-wak," I had said when she first proposed 
the expedition, but she had laughed gaily and 
nodded her head to indicate that there was not the 
slightest danger, and, shamed into it, we had set 
forth and made an excellent crossing. 

On the return trip, midway between the two 
islands, I was floating lazily, supported by a girdle 
of inflated dew-fish bladders and towed by 
Kippy. She had propped over my head her 
verdant taa-taa without which the natives never 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 85 

swim for fear of the tropical sun, and I think I 
must have dozed off for I was suddenly roused by 
a hoarse Klaxon-bellow "Kaaraschaa-gha!" which 
told me all too plainly that I was in the most 
hideous peril. 

"Wak-wak!" I barked, and all my past life 
began to unfold before me. 

It was a horrid sight — the wak-wak, I mean. He 
was swimming on the surface, and at ten feet I 
saw his great jaws open, lined with row upon row 
of teeth that stretched back into his interior as far 
as the eye could reach and farther. Mixed up 
with this dreadful reality were visions of my past. 
I seemed to be peering into one of those vast, 
empty auditoriums that had greeted my opera, 
"Jumping Jean," when it was finally produced, 
privately. 

"Help! Help!" I screamed, reverting to English. 

Suddenly Kippy seized the taa-taa from my 
nerveless grasp. Half closing it, she swam directly 
toward the monster into whose widening throat 
she thrust the sharp-pointed instrument, in, in, 
until I thought she herself would follow it. And 
then, as she had intended, the point pierced the 
wak-wak 9 s tonsil. 

With a shriek of pain his jaws began to close 



86 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

and, on the instant, Kippy yanked the handle with 
all her might, opening the taa-taa to its full extent 
in the beast's very narrows. 

Choked though he was, unable for the moment to 
bite or expel the outer air and submerge, the brute 
was still dangerous. Kippy was towing me shore- 
ward at a speed which caused the sea to foam 
about my bladders but the wak-wak still pursued 
us. A second time my dauntless mate rose to the 
occasion. 

With amazing buoyancy she lifted herself to 
a half-seated position on the surface of the water 
and poured forth the most astounding imitation 
of the motherhood cry of the fatu-liva. 

"Biloo-ow-ow-ow-ow-zing-aaa !" 

Again, and yet again, it rang across the waters, 
and in the distance, flying at incredible speed, 
I saw the rainbow host of fatu-livas coming 
towards us! 

Gallant fowl! Shall I ever forget how they 
circled about us. One of their clan, as they sup- 
posed, was in dire danger and they functioned as 
only a fatu-liva can. Flying at an immense 
height, in battle formation, they began laying 
eggs with marvelous precision. The first two 
struck the wak-wak square on the nose and he 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 87 

screamed with pain. The third, landing corner- 
wise, put out his right eye and he began to thrash 
in helpless circles. The fourth was a direct hit on 
my left temple. "Face-of-the-Moon" passed over 
the horizon into oblivion whence he emerged to 
find himself in a tree, his brow eased with an 
alova-leaf poultice, his heart comforted by Daugh- 
ter of Pearl and Coral. 



Chapter VII 

Excursions beyond the outer reef. Our aquatic 
wives. Premonitions. A picnic on the moun- 
tain. Hearts and flowers. Whinney delivers a 
geological dissertation. Babai finds a fatu-liva 
nest. The strange flower in my wife's hair. 



Chapter VII 

As I look back on the months which followed I 
can truthfully say that they were the happiest 
of my existence. The semi-detachment of our 
island domesticity was a charm against tedium; 
our family reunions were joys. 

Often we organized picnics to distant points. 
With hold-alls of panjandrus leaves packed with 
a supply of breadfruit sandwiches, sun-baked 
cuttywink eggs and a gallon or two of hoopa, 
we would go to one of the lovely retreats with 
which our wives were familiar. 

Occasionally we sailed in the Kawa, at which 
times the intrepid Triplett accompanied us. Re- 
membering those happy times I now realize that 
his presence cast the only shadow across the bright 
sunlight of our days. Why this was I could not 
have said, — indeed I should have probably denied 
that it was so, yet the fact remains that on some 

91 



92 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

of our excursions to neighboring islands, when, 
having pulled back the terrestrial cork of the atoll, 
we had eased our tight little craft into the outer 
waters, I experienced a distinct dorsal chill. 

Both Kippiputuonaa and Lupoba-Tilaana felt 
this to a marked degree, but most of all was it 
apparent in its affect on Mrs. Whinney whose 
maiden name, Babai-Alova-babai (Triple extract 
of Alova), only faintly describes the intoxicating 
fragrance of her beauty. 

Tiplette, naue aata b'nau boti!" she used to cry. 
"Do not let Triplett go in the boat." 

The old man was insistent. He had worked 
William Henry Thomas to exhaustion rerigging 
the craft and then thrust him out, bag and baggage. 
But I must admit that between them they had 
done a good job. William Henry and his bride 
took up lodgings in a tall tree near the lagoon 
whence they used mournfully to regard the floating 
home in which they had spent their unhallowed 
honeymoon. When we actually began to sail her 
the William Henry Thomases disappeared from 
view as if the sight were too much for them, and 
we seldom saw them thereafter. 

Triplett's ingenuity was responsible for the 
bamboo mast, woven paa-paa sail and the new 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 93 

yard-arm, which, in the absence of a universal 
joint was cleverly fashioned of braided eva-eva. 

On our cruises our wives spent a large part of 
their time overboard, sporting about the ship like 
porpoises, ever and anon diving deep under our 
counter only to appear on the other side decked 
with polyp buds as if crowned by Neptune 
himself. At this game Babai-Alova-Babai ex- 
celled. Never shall I forget the day she suddenly 
popped up close alongside and playfully tossed a 
magnificent pearl into Triplett's lap. 

But, as I say, I did not feel at ease. Perhaps 
it was my experience with the wak-waks, — per- 
haps, — however, I anticipate. 

Our merriest jaunts were nearer home. Most 
memorable of all was our first trip to the mountain, 
that gorgeous pile on the center of the lagoon. 

It was early morning when we set out, disdaining 
our trim "Tree-with-Wings" from the deck of 
which Triplett watched our short three-mile swim 
across the still water. At every stroke flocks of 
iridescent dew-fish rose about us uttering their 
brittle note, "Klicketty-inkle! Klicketty-inkle!"* 

We were all wearing the native costume and 

* One of the pleasantest sights imaginable is that of the natives gathering 
these little creatures as they rise to the surface at dawn. The dew-fish or 
kali-toa are similar to our white-bait, but much whiter. W.E.T. 



GOLDEN HARMONIES 

This was the sort of thing that greeted the intrepid explorers of the Kawa 
when they made their first tour of the island and were entertained by the 
entrancing inhabitants of the women's compound. The two performers are 
respectively Lupoba-Tilaana and Baibai-Alova-Baibai. It was only after 
much persusasion that they agreed to be photographed but, when finally 
posed to Mr. Whinney's satisfaction, they entered into the spirit of the oc- 
casion by bursting into the national anthem of Love, which is described in 
Chapter II. The instruments are the bombi, a hollow section of rapiti-wood 
covered with fish membrane, and the lonkila, a stringed instrument of most 
plaintive and persuasive tone. These two instruments, with the addition of 
the bazoota, a wood-wind affair made from papoo reeds, make up the simple 
orchestral equipment of the Filberts. 




c 

o 

B 

u 

a 

X 



2 
O 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 95 

Swank, I remember, caught his rigolo on a coral 
branch and delayed us five minutes. But we were 
soon on the inner beach laughing over the in- 
cident while Babai made repairs. 

The path up the mountain led through a paradise 
of tropical wonders. On this trip Whinney was 
easily the star, his scientific knowledge enabling 
him to point out countless marvels which we might 
not otherwise have seen. As he talked I made 
rapid notes. 

"Look," he said, holding up an exquiste rose- 
colored reptile. "The tritulus annularis or pink 
garter snake! Almost unheard of in the tropics." 

Kippy insisted on tying it around her shapely 
limb. Then, of course, Babai must have one, too, 
and great were our exertions before we bagged an 
additional pair for our loved ones. 

Thus sporting on our way, crowned with alova 
and girdled with tontoni (a gorgeous type of 
flannel-mouthed snapdragon which kept all man- 
ner of insects at bay), we wound toward the 
summit, stopping ever and anon to admire the 
cliffs of mother-of-pearl, sheer pages of colorful 
history thrown up long ago by some primeval 
illness of mother earth. 

Swank was so intoxicated by it all that I 



96 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

made almost the only break of our island experi- 
ence. 

"You've been drinking," I accused. 

"You lie," he answered hotly, "it's these colors! 
Wow-wow! Osky -wow-wow! Skinny wow-wow 
Illinois!" 

"Oh, shut up!" I remonstrated, when I saw 
Tilaana advancing toward me, fluttering her 
taa-taa in the same menacing way in which Kippy 
had attacked the wak-wak. 

"I beg your pardon," I said. "I was wrong. I 
apologize." 

We stood in a circle and chinned each other until 
peace was restored. 

The view from the summit was, as authors say, 
indescribable. Nevertheless I shall describe it, or 
rather I shall quote Whinney who at this moment 
reached his highest point. We were then about 
three thousand feet above sea-level. 

I wish I could give his address as it was de- 
livered, in Filbertese, but I fear that my readers 
would skip, a form of literary exercise which I 
detest. 

Try for a moment to hold the picture; our little 
group standing on the very crest of the mountain 
as if about to sing the final chorus of the Creation 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 97 

to an audience of islands. Far-flung they stretched, 
these jeweled confections, while below, almost at 
our very feet, we could see the Kawa and Triplett, 
a tiny speck, frantically waving his yard-arm! 
Even at three thousand feet he gave me a chill. . . . 
But let Whinney speak. 

"It is plain," he said, "that the basalt monadnock 
on which we stand is a carboniferous upthrust of 
metamorphosed schists, shales and conglomorate, 
probably Mesozoic or at least early Silurian." 

At this point our wives burst into laughter. In 
fact, their attitude throughout was trying but 
Whinney bravely proceeded. 

"You doubtless noticed on the shore that the 
deep-lying metamorphic crystals have been exposed 
by erosion, leaving on the upper levels faulted 
strata of tilted lava-sheets interstratified with 
pudding-stone." 

"We have!" shouted Swank. 

"Evidently then," continued the professor, "the 
atoll is simply an annular terminal moraine of 
detritus shed alluvially into the sea, thus leaving 
a geosyncline of volcanic ash embedded with an 
occasional trilobite and the fragments of scoria, 
upon which we now stand." 

We gave Whinney a long cheer with nine Yales 



WILLIAM HENRY THOMAS 

Of all the members of the now famous cruise of the Kawa into hitherto un- 
charted waters it is doubtful if any one entered so fully into the spirit of 
adventure as the silent fore-mast hand whose portrait faces this text. It 
was he who first adopted native costume. The day after landing in the 
Filberts he was photographed as we see him wearing a native wreath of 
nabiscus blooms and having discarded shoes. Every day he discarded some 
article of raiment. It was he who first took unto himself an island mate. 
It was he who ultimately abandoned all hope of ever seeing his home and 
country again, electing rather to remain among his new-found people with his 
new-found love and his new-found name, Fatakahala (Flower of Darkness). 
Truly, strange flowers of fancy blossom in the depths of the New England 
character. It is reported that he has lately been elected King of the Filberts. 




William Henry Thomas 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 99 

at the close to cover the laughter of the women, 
for the discourse was really superb. In English 
its melodic charm is lost, but you must admit that 
for an indescribable thing it is a very fine descrip- 
tion. 

After several days of idyllic life in our mountain 
paradise we felt the returning urge of our various 
ambitions. 

"Kippy, my dear," I said, "I think we ought to 
be going." 

Sweet soul that she was! that they all were, these 
beautiful women of ours! Anything we proposed 
was agreeable to them. As we trooped down the 
mountain singing, our merry chorus shook the forest 
glades and literally brought down the cocoanuts. 

Whinney was not alone in his scientific dis- 
coveries for on the return trip Babai suddenly 
gave a cry of delight and the next instant had 
climbed with amazing agility to the top of a 
towering palm whence she returned bearing a 
semi-spheric bowl of closely woven grass in which 
lay four snow-white, polka-dotted cubes, the 
marvelous square eggs of the fatu-liva! 

"Kopaa kopitaa aue!" she cried. "Hide them. 
Quickly, away!" 

I knew the danger, of which my temple still 



100 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

bore the scar. Concealing our find under our 
taa-taa we scraped and slid over the faulted and 
tilted strata to which Whinney had referred until 
we reached the beach. High above us I could 
hear the anguished cry of the mother fatu-liva 
vainly seeking her ravished home and potential 
family. 

The marking of the eggs is most curious and 
Whinney took a photograph of them (facing page 
124) when we reached the yawl. It is an excellent 
picture though Whinney, with the captiousness 
of the scientist, claims that one of the eggs 
moved. 

Just before we left the mountain beach my own 
radiant Daughter of Pearl and Coral made a dis- 
covery which in the light of after events was 
destined to play an important part in our ad- 
ventures. Kippiputuona, my own true mate, 
there is something ironically tragic in the thought 
that the simple blue flower which you plucked so 
carelessly from the cliff edge and thrust into your 
hair would some day — but again, I anticipate. 

We had reached the yawl, which we made a sort 
of half-way house and were chatting with Captain 
Triplett. Whinney was repeating parts of his 
talk and I noticed that Triplett's attention was 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 101 

wandering. His eye was firmly fixed on the flower 
in Kippy's hair. That called my attention to it 
and I saw that whenever my wife turned her head 
the blossom of the flower slowly turned in the 
opposite direction. 

Suddenly Triplett interrupted Whinney to say 
in a rather shaky voice, "Mrs. Traprock, if you 
please, would you mind facin' a-stern." 

I motioned to Kippy to obey, which she would 
have done anyway. 

"An' now," said the Captain, "kindly face 
forrard." 

Same business. 

The flower slowly turned on Kippy's head! 

Stretching forth a trembling hand, Triplett 
plucked the blossom from Kippy's hair! 

You can only imagine the commotion which en- 
sued when I tell you that, in the Filberts, for a man 
to pluck a flower from a woman's hair means only 
one thing. Poor Kippy was torn between love 
of me and what she thought was duty to my chief. 
I had a most difficult time explaining to her that 
Triplett meant absolutely nothing by his action, 
a statement which he corroborated by all sorts of 
absurd "I don't care," gestures — but he clung to 
the flower. 



102 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

An hour later when we had escorted the ladies 
safely to their compound, I paddled back to the 
yawl. Peering through the port-hole I could see 
Triplett by the light of a phosphorous dip working 
on a rude diagram; at his elbow was the blue 
flower in a puta-shell of water. 

"Triplett," I asked sternly, as I stood beside 
him an instant later, "what is that flower?" 

"That," said Triplett, "is a compass-plant." 

"And what is a compass-plant?" 

"A compass-plant," said Triplett, "is ," 

but for the third and last time, I anticipate. 

I must get over that habit. 



Chapter VIII 

Swank's popularity on the island. Whinney's 
jealousy. An artistic duel. Whinney's deplor- 
able condition. An assembly of the Archipelago. 
Water-sports on the reef. The Judgment. 



Chapter VIII 

Whinney and I were surprised to find that the 
islanders took Swank more seriously than they did 
either of us. Of course, since the Kama's forcible 
entry into the atoll premier honors were Triplett's, 
but Swank was easily second. 

The curious reason was that his pictures appealed. 
I think I have indicated that Swank was ultra- 
modern in his tendencies. "Artless art," was his 
formula, often expressed by his slogan — "A has 
Vobjectif! Vive le subjonctif." Whatever that 
means, he scored with the Filbertines who would 
gather in immense numbers wherever he set up 
his easel. 

This was due in part to his habit of standing 
with his back to the scene which he proposed to 
paint and, bending over until his head almost 
touched the ground, peering at the landscape 
between his outspread legs. 

105 



106 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

"It intensifies the color," he explained. "Try 
it." 

Baahaabaa bestowed a title on our artist — 
"Maimaue Ahiiahi" — "Tattooer of Rainbows" — 
by which he was loudly acclaimed. Whinney and I 
used to sing, "He's always tattooing rainbows!" 
but artistic vanity was proof against such bour- 
geoisie. 

Baahaabaa was tireless in suggesting new sub- 
jects for him to paint. One day it would be 
a performance of the Ataboi, the languorously 
sensuous dance which we had first seen in the 
women's compound; again he would stage a scene 
of feasting, at which the men passed foaming shells 
of hoopa from hand to hand. A difficulty was 
that of preventing the artist from quitting work 
and joining his models which Swank always 
justified by saying that the greatest art resulted 
from submerging oneself with one's subject. 

"Look at Gaugin!" he used to say. 

"But I don't like to look at Gaugin," I re- 
monstrated. 

Whinney foolishly tried to compete with Swank 
by means of his camera — foolishly, I say, though 
the result was one of the finest spectacles I have 
ever witnessed. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 107 

For days Whinney had been stalking Swank, 
photographing everything he painted. In a dark- 
room of closely woven panjandrus leaves the films 
were developed and a proof rushed off to Baahaa- 
baa long before the artist had finished his picture. 

This naturally irritated Swank and he finally 
challenged the scientist to mortal combat, an 
artistic duel, camera against brush, lens against 
eye. 

When the details were explained to Baahaabaa, 
he was in a frenzy of excitement. As judge, his 
decision was to be final, which should have warned 
Whinney, who, as the challenged party, had the 
right to select the subject. His choice was 
distinctly artful. 

"I think I've got him!" he confided. "We're 
to do the 'lagoon at dawn.' You know what that 
means? Everything's gray and I can beat him 
a mile on gray; secondly, there won't be a gang of 
people around, and, thirdly, Swank simply loathes 
getting up early. They're all alike, these artists; 
any effort before noon is torture!" 

"All right," said Swank, when I explained the 
conditions, "I won't go to bed at all." 

When the rivals showed up on the beach at the 
appointed time I regret to say that Swank was not 



THE LAGOON AT DAWN 

(Whinney's Version) 
What the camera can do in interpreting the subtle values of a delicate 
color scheme is here shown in the prize photograph submitted by Reginald 
Whinney in the great competition presided over by Chief Baahaabaa. It is 
rare indeed to find a beach in the Filbert Islands so deserted. An hour after 
this photograph was taken more than three thousand natives were as- 
sembled 1 to witness the judging of the exhibits. In the small hours of night, 
the entire strand is covered with pita-oolas, or giant land-crabs, about the 
size of manhole covers, who crawl inland to cut down the palm trees with 
which they build their nests. An examination of the picture with a power- 
ful microscope will reveal the presence on the surface of the water of millions 
of dew-fish enjoying their brief interval of day and dew. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 109 

himself. He had spent the night with Baahaabaa 
and Hitoia-Upa, who supported him on either 
side, and balanced him precariously on his sketch- 
ing-stool where he promptly fell asleep. In the 
meantime Whinney was dodging about with his 
camera, squinting in the finder, without finding 
anything — one never does — peering at the bright- 
ening sky, holding his thumb at arm's length,* 
in a word going through all the artistic motions 
which should have been Swank's. The latter 
finally aroused himself and laboriously got onto 
all fours, looking like a dromedary about to lie 
down, from which position he contemplated the 
sunrise for several minutes and then began to 
fumble in his painting box. 

"Ver' funny — ver' funny," he crooned, "forgot 
my brushes." 

"Let me get them for you," I suggested. 

He waived me aside. "Gimme air." 

Whinney 's shutter was now clicking indus- 
triously. He had decided to use an entire film, 
and submit the picture which came out best. 
Swank was gradually covering his canvas by 
squeezing the paint directly from the tubes, a 

* In Southern Peru the same gesture used to signify contempt and de- 
rision. 



110 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

method which has since been copied by many 
others — the "Tubistes" so called. Every few 
moments he would lurch forward and press his nose 
against the canvas, once falling flat on his master- 
piece, most of which was transferred to his chest. 
But he persevered. 

Whinney by this time had retired to his dark- 
room; Baahaabaa and Hitoia-Upa snored; Swank 
worked and I, from a near-by knoll, watched the 
miracle of a tropical dawn. 

It was a scene of infinite calm, low in color- 
key, peaceful in composition, the curve of purple 
and lavender beach unbroken, the crest of dark 
palms unmoved, "like a Turk verse along a scimi- 
tar." The waters of the lagoon, a mirror of 
molten amber, reflected the soft hues of the sky 
from which the trailing garments of night were 
gradually withdrawn before his majesty, the 
Day. 

Swank only allowed himself the use of the three 
primary colors — consequently his rendering of the 
opalescent beauty of this particular dawn was 
somewhat beyond me. 

Where I saw the glowing promise of color rather 
than color itself, Swank saw red. Where I felt 
the hushed presence of dawn "like a pilgrim clad," 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 111 

Swank vibrated to the harmonies of pure pigment, 
the full brass of a tonal orchestra. 

Of a sudden his color hypnotism transported him. 

"Eee — yow!" he howled, brandishing a handful 
of Naples yellow mixed with coral which he hurled 
at the canvas. "Zow! Bam! Ooh, la la!" His 
shrieks roused his escorts and brought a rapidly 
swelling crowd to the dune, where, to the sound 
of his own ravings and the plaudits of the specta- 
tors, he finished his masterpiece. 

Late afternoon of the same day was the hour 
agreed upon for the Judgment. Baahaabaa had 
sent invitations by express swimmers to all the 
near-by islands. He invited the entire archi- 
pelago. 

The picture of their approach was interesting. 
Kippy haled me to the top of a tall tree whence we 
watched the convergant argosies, hundreds of tiny 
specks each bearing an outspread taa-taa of 
gleaming leaves. It was as if Birnam Wood had 
gone yachting. 

Tapa nui ekilana lohoo-a" chanted my mate. 

Following her outstreched hand I discerned a 
group of taa-taas, arranged in wedge formation, the 
enclosing sides being formed by swimmers carrying 
si web of woven haro, in the center of which re- 



THE LAGOON AT DAWN 

(Swank's Version) 
An interesting example of the way in which the mind of a painter works will 
be found in this reproduction of the masterpiece created by Herman Swank 
in competition with the photograph shown facing page 108. Both camera 
and painter were to reproduce the same subject, yet how differently they 
reacted to it. In the beauty of nature about him it is evident that the great 
artist felt only the dominant feature of island life, the glorious, untrammeled 
womanhood of the South Seas. The wild abandon, the primitive gesture of 
modesty, the eyes of adoration — symbolically expressed as detached en- 
tities floating about the loved one — all are present in this remarkable picture. 
Thus expressed, too, we may find the ever-present ocean, the waving palms 
and, if we seek carefully, the Kawa herself, scudding before the trade wind. 
Truly may this be called, a: the artist prefers, the Venus of Polynesia. 




The Lagoon at Dawn (Swank's Version) 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 113 

posed a visiting chief with three or four of his 
wives. 

By four o'clock the beach was thronged with 
thousands of gleaming bodies. Festivity and re- 
joicing were in every eye. Shouts of welcome, 
bursts of laughter, and the resounding slap of 
friendly hand on visiting hip or shoulder, the 
dignified welcome of the chiefs, cries of children, 
dances and games, myriad details of social amity — 
all presented a picture of unspoiled Polynesia 
such as is found in the Filberts alone. When I 
forget it, may I be forgot. 

Of course Swank, Whinney and I were objects 
of much curiosity — and admiration. Hundreds 
of times my radiant Daughter of Pearl and Coral 
repeated: 

"Ahoa tarumea — Kapatooi Naani-Tui" — "I 
should like to make you acquainted with my 
husband, Face-of-the-Moon." 

Hundreds of times did I press my chin against 
soft ears and submit to the same gentle greeting. 
Hundreds of times did I raise the welcoming 
hoopa-shell with the usual salutation — "Lomi- 
lomi," — "May you live for a thousand years and 
grow to enormous size." 

In a rest period Kippy and I swam to the reef 



114 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

where the younger set were sporting among the 
coral, diving for pearls which rolled on the purple 
floor. As I think now of the value of those milky 
globes, the size of gooseberries, I marvel that not 
a thought of covetousness crossed my mind. What 
were pearls to us? 

"Catch!" cried Kippy, and threw a fish-skin 
beauty in my direction. I admired its lustre for 
an instant and its perfect roundness acquired from 
the incessant rolling of the tides — then carelessly 
tossed it back. It slipped between Kippy's fingers. 

"I'll get it," I cried, making ready to dive, but 
she shouted a warning. 

"Arani electi. Oki Kutiaa!"— "Look out! The 
snapping oysters!" 

Gazing down through the crystal depths into 
which our bauble had fallen I saw a great gaping 
kutiaa, the fiercest of Crustacea, its shelly mouth 
slightly ajar, waiting for the careless hand or foot 
that might come within its grasp. We let the 
pearl go and amused ourselves by sucking the 
eggs of the liho, a bland-faced bird which makes its 
nest in the surface coral branches.* Here, too, we 
laughed over the ridiculous ratatia, that grotesque 

*The liho is in many respects the most remarkable fowl in existence. It 
is of the gallinaris or hen family crossed with the male shad which causes 
the bird to produce eggs in unheard of quantity. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 115 

amphibian who is built like a ferry-boat, with a 
head at either end and swivel fins so that however 
he may move he is always going forward. 

From these diversions the sound of singing sum- 
moned us. The Judgment was about to take place. 
At top speed we swam ashore and joined the crowd. 
For once I was glad that literature had no place in 
the competition, so that Kippy and I were free 
to watch the proceedings. 

Years ago I saw the ceremonial by which the 
British Government conferred on the Bahia of 
Persia the title of "The Bab of Babs," but it was 
nothing compared to what I now gazed upon. 

As far as the eye could reach stretched the 
crowd. Under a gorgeous dais of panjandrus 
leaves respendent with alova blossoms sat Baa- 
haabaa, on his right Captain Triplett, on his left 
Hanuhonu, the ranking visitor, and all about 
retinues of nobles, with their superb families, 
groups of dancers, slim and straight as golden 
birches, singers, orators and athletes. It was 
grand opera on a titanic scale, with the added 
distinction of really meaning something. 

Baahaabaa spoke first — in fact I think I may say 
that he spoke first, last and all the time. I can 
conscientiously claim that he is the champion long- 



116 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

distance orator of the world. Ever and anon he 
gave way to a guest but only for a moment. 

"We are met," he said — I translate freely — 
"we are met to witness the emulation of friends." 
Could anything be more delicate? 

"We have with us tonight, in this corner, 
Wanooa-Potonopoa (Whinney), the Man with his 
Eye in a Box" (this was plainly a reference to 
Whinney's camera) — while in this corner, we have 
Mainaue Ahiiahi, Tattooer-of -Rainbows. Both 
boys are members of this island." 

The applause was enormous but Swank had the 
grace to rise and kiss his finger-tips toward the 
audience which immediately put him on a friendly 
footing. 

After a few more speeches by Baahaabaa the 
exhibits were unveiled. Of course, the result was 
foregone. I must admit that Whinney's was not 
hung to advantage. The two pictures were placed 
against tufts of haro at forty yards distance where, 
naturally, the detail of the photograph lost some- 
thing of its effectiveness. Swank's picture on the 
contrary blazed like a pin-wheel. The further 
you got from it the better it looked. 

A characteristic point in the competition was 
that Swank had introduced figures into his com- 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 117 

position where no figures had existed. "What do 
I care?" he said to my objection. "I was there, 
wasn't I? And you were there? There may have 
been others." 

A mighty roar followed the unveiling, a shout of 
such force that tons of breadfruit and thousands of 
cocoanuts fell from the adjacent trees. But it was 
plain to see whom the shouting was for. Then 
Baahaabaa made the awards and — the prizes were 
identical — two royal rigolos of mother-of-pearl, 
elaborately trimmed with corals and pendants of 
limpid aquamarine. What tact, what grace and 
charm in these identical rewards! 

I am fortunate in being able to reproduce both 
masterpieces, so that my readers may form their 
own decision. Personally, Whinney's photograph 
seems to me to reproduce more completely my 
memories of "The Lagoon at Dawn." But I may 
be wrong. Modern artists will probably back up 
the popular judgment and on that memorable day 
in the Filberts I would certainly have been in the 
minority. 



Chapter IX 

More premonitions. Triplett's curious behavior. A 
call from Baahaabaa. We visit William Henry 
Thomas. His bride. The christening. A hide- 
ous discovery. Pros and cons. Our heart-break- 
ing decision. A stirrup-cup of lava-lava. 



Chapter IX 

It was two weeks after the great Competition 
before the celebrations which followed it termi- 
nated, the tumult and the shouting died, and the 
last of our amiable visitors paddled homeward, 
some being towed by new-found wives, while not 
a few remained in our own community, infusing our 
society with the novelty and fresh gossip of their 
islands. Little by little we settled back into do- 
mestic quiet. 

A blithe incident enlivened that peaceful period, 
preceding tragic events which must be told in their 
proper place. 

On the fairest of tropical mornings Kippy and I 
heard a gentle tapping at the trunk of our tree and, 
peering over the floor, saw below Baahaabaa, his 
face shining with happiness. 

"Katia?" we questioned, but he was mysterious 
and led us quietly to the trees occupied by the 

121 



122 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Swanks, the Whinneys and finally Triplett, all 
of whom he roused as he had us. 

"Katia?" we repeated. 

"Hoko," he answered, and to our surprise, again 
motioned us forward. For twenty minutes we 
threaded a forest trail in which still lurked the 
shadows of night. At a giant palm tree our leader 
again tapped gently. 

Who should look over the edge of the densely 
screened dwelling but William Henry Thomas! 

At first glimpse of us he hastily drew back and 
I heard the muttered sound of old-fashioned, New 
England cursing. Reassured by Baahaabaa, how- 
ever, he slid down to join us, followed by his 
wife. 

It was the first time I had ever really seen her 
and I must say that I was completely bowled over 
by the sight. Plainly not of the same social class as 
the beautiful women whom Baahaabaa had selected 
for us, she yet possessed an eerie charm of her own 
which instantly stirred strange emotions in my 
breast. I heard Swank gasp and Whinney's face 
was white and drawn, his favorite expression when 
deeply moved. She stood close to her husband, 
half -twined about him with the grace and strength 
of an eva-eva vine while her kindling eyes burned 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 123 

questioningly, her lithe body tense and protective. 
"He is to be christened," said Baahaabaa, with a 
magnificent gesture toward William Henry Thomas. 

We could only look our astonishment. 

"Yes," continued the chief, smiling benignly, 
"first among you all is he to have his name recorded 
in our ancient fashion." 

As he pronounced these words Baahaabaa lifted 
his left foot solemnly and pointed to his own royal 
appellation tattooed on the sole. Our wives did 
likewise. 

"What is his name?" Whinney asked. 

William Henry Thomas's head rose proudly as 
his wife replied in thrilling, woodland tones, "Fata- 
kahala." 

"Fatakahala!" repeated Baahaabaa, "Flower of 
Darkness," and William Henry Thomas raised his 
head as high as it would go. 

"When does the ceremony take place?" asked 
Whinney. Baahaabaa pointed to the distant peak 
of the mountain. 

"Tonight. Maka, the Tattooer, is ready; the 
fishbones are sharpened; the juice of the tupa- 
berries fills the holy shell. We go." 

All that day we strung ceremonial garlands 
about the base of the mountain, which, with its 



THE NEST OF A FATU-LIVA 

This is without question the most extraordinary picture which has ever 
been taken of any natural history subject. It corroborates in most con- 
vincing manner the author's claim to the discovery of the wonderful fatu-liva 
bird with its unique gift of laying square eggs. Here we see the eggs them- 
selves in all the beauty of their cubical form and quaint marking; here we 
see the nest itself, made of delicately woven haro and brought carefully from 
the tree's summit by its discoverer, Babai-Alova-Babai. An extremely in- 
teresting feature of the picture is the presence in the nest of lapa or signal- 
feather. By close observation, Mr. Whinney, the scientist of the expedition, 
discovered that whenever the mother-bird left the nest in search of food she 
always decorated her home with one of her wing feathers which served as a 
signal to her mate that she would return shortly, which she invariably did. 
Skeptics have said that it would be impossible to lay a square egg. To 
which the author is justly entitled to say: "The camera never lies." 




The Nest of a Fatu-Liva 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 125 

circumference of a mile and three-quarters, was no 
small task. But sunset found it completed. We 
supped on the beach and at nine, under a rising 
moon, climbed toward the summit. The peak was 
reserved for William Henry Thomas, Maka and her 
four attendants who bore the utensils and long 
ropes of eva-eva — "to tie him with," whispered 
Baahaabaa. 

At exactly ten, by the shadow of the mountain 
on the atoll, William Henry Thomas stepped forth 
into the moonlight to face his ordeal — alone. 

In the darkness we waited, Kippy clinging close 
to me. Then came a sound at which I could but 
shudder. It was a giggle, the voice plainly that of 
William Henry Thomas. This was followed by a 
hysterical sob of laughter. 

"The christening has begun," murmured Kippy. 

You can not imagine anything more horrible. 
Never before to my knowledge had William Henry 
Thomas laughed. Now, wilder and yet more wild 
rang his uncontrollable mirth, rising at times to 
demoniac screams, anon sinking to convulsive 
chuckles. The worst of it was that it was in- 
fectious. 

Conscious though we were of the poor wretch's 
suffering, we could not help joining his vocal ex- 



126 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

pression of it, and thus we sat, in the darkness, our 
peals of laughter bursting forth at every fresh 
paroxysm. Tears of distress rolled down Swank's 
cheeks. 

An hour later the vines parted and a recumbent 
form was borne gently down the mountain; 
William Henry Thomas, that was, his new name 
wrapped in soft leaves over which his wife sobbed 
in tender ecstasy. 

On the day following a bolt fell from the blue. 

Swank and I were spending the afternoon with 
Triplett on board the Kawa where the captain was 
explaining the workings of various home-made 
navigating instruments which he had manu- 
factured. 

"This here is a astrolabe," he said, "jackass 
quadrant, I call it." He displayed a sort of rudi- 
mentary crossbow. "An' this here is a perspective- 
glass, kind of a telescope, see? Made'er bamboo. 
The lenses ain't very good; had to use fish-skin. 
Got my compass-plant nicely rooted in sand, see — 
she's doin' fine." 

"What's this all for?" asked Swank. 

Triplett smiled malevolently. 

"Don't you want to know where you be? I've 
got it all figgered out. Got a chart, too." 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 127 

He unrolled a broad leaf on which he had drawn 
a rough sketch of the island, probable north and 
possible latitude and longitude. 

Again the chill of dismay and apprehension 
which I had felt before in Triplett's presence ran 
up and down my spine. It was beginning to dawn 
upon me that Triplett was planning a get-away. 

"My God!" I cried, "take that thing away! What 
you trying to do, Triplett? Hook us up to civiliza- 
tion with all its deviltry and disease and damned 
conventions? Don't you appreciate the beauty of 
getting outside of the covers of a geography?" 

The old devil only grinned, his very leer seeming 
to say, "I've got a trump card up my sleeve, 
young man." 

What might have been a bitter scene was in- 
terrupted by something much more serious. 

We saw Whinney running along the edge of the 
lagoon into which he presently plunged and began 
swimming madly in our direction. As he drew 
near I saw that he was deathly white. When we 
dragged him over the rail he collapsed in the 
scuppers and burst into tears. 

"What is it?" we questioned. 

He jerked out his answer in hoarse, broken frag- 
ments, while our blood froze. 



128 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

"It's come. ... I was afraid of it. . . . from 
the first . . . it's here . . . we've done it . . . 
we've got to get out ... it is not fair ..." 

"For heaven's sake," I shouted. "What's here? 
What have we done?" 

"Disease!" he panted. "Disease! You know 
. . . how the other islands . . . Marquesas . . . 
Solomons . . . Tongas . . . dying, all dying." 

His voice sank and he covered his face with his 
hands, shoulders shaking. 

"What . . . what is it? Who has it?" 

It was then that Whinney made the supreme call 
on his nerve, stiffened visibly and answered in a 
dead voice, "My wife, Babai-Alova-Babai, has 
prickly-heat!" 

It seemed to me in that moment that the entire 
atoll revolved rapidly in one direction while the 
mountain twirled in the other. Through my brain 
crashed a sequence of sickening pictures, the lepers 
of Molokai with their hideous affliction imported 
from China, the gaunt, coughing wrecks of Papeete, 
the scarecrows of Samoa — and now this! 

And Whinney was right. We had done it; who 
individually, I know not, nor cared, but collec- 
tively we were guilty. Into this Eden, this Para- 
dise in which I had never seen or heard of the slight- 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 129 

est ailment, we, the prideful whites, had brought 
this deadly thing! 

Should we remain, I dared not face the conse- 
quences. 

"Is it . . . bad?" I managed to ask. 

"Pretty," moaned poor Whinney. "Left knee, 
small of back . . . spreading." 

"I'm going home," I said. "We'll meet here 
tomorrow afternoon at the same time. If this 
thing develops" . . . 

I finished my sentence by diving overboard. 

Early next morning I knew the worst. Daugh- 
ter of Pearl and Coral was restless during the night. 
When the sun rose a single glance at her polished 
shoulders and my heart broke, never to be repaired. 
Folding her gently in my arms, I trembled in a 
paroxysm of grief. 

We spent the entire day together, I in an agony 
of soul which I could not quite conceal and which 
my beloved tried to dispel by the tenderest tributes 
of her consuming love. I cannot speak more of 
what lies too deeply in my heart. 

It was a tragic trio which reassembled on the 
Kawas deck as the late afternoon sun spread its 
golden hand across the lagoon. The purple shadow 
of the Mountain rested on our tiny craft but a 



A FLEDGLING FATU-LIVA 

It was by the rarest good fortune that Dr. Traprock was able to secure 
what is probably the only living specimen now in captivity of the hitherto 
unknown fatu-liva bird. Immediately upon his arrival at Papeete efforts 
were made to secure a mother bird of any kind which would hatch out the 
four fatu-liva eggs then in the explorer's possession. Owing to their angular 
and uncomfortable shape it was found impossible to keep a bird brooding for 
more than three minutes at a time. After much effort one egg was finally 
hatched from which was derived the handsome specimen shown in the 
illustration. The youngster is now doing finely in the Bronx aviary. Un- 
fortunately he is a male, so that his hope of posterity rests entirely upon 
the success of another expedition to the Filbert Islands. 




C 



ft 

< 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 131 

shadow yet deeper shrouded our hearts. Each of 
us carried the consciousness of a terrible duty. We 
ought to leave the Filberts. 

Broken-heartedly we talked over the situation. 

"Getting worse," was Whinney's report. "Saw 
Baahaabaa scratching his leg this morning — prob- 
ably got it." 

Poor Baahaabaa, how my heart ached for him. 

"We ought to leave," I said. 

It was the first time any of us had dared state 
the hideous truth in plain words. They fell like 
lead on our spirits. Swank's sensitive soul was 
perhaps the most harrowed of all. 

He sat moaning on the taffrail taking little or no 
part in the discussion. All at once he sprang up 
with blazing eyes. 

"I can't do it!" he shouted. "I can't — and I 
won't. Blessed little Lupoba, — my Mist-on-the- 
Mountain. How can I desert you? How can we 
any of us desert our wives — let us stay, let us live, 
and, if we must, let us die. Love is more than life." 

It was a powerful appeal. Overwrought as I 
was, I nearly succumbed to the false reasoning 
which was but the expression of my desire. And 
then once more the vision of those deadly inroads 
of disease rose before me. 



132 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

"Whinney," I asked, "is there no cure for this 
awful thing? No antitoxin?" 

He shook his head sadly. 

"We have been studying it for years. The only 
hope is in their complete isolation. If we stay 
here . . . and a second epidemic breaks out . . ."; 
he shrugged hopelessly and Swank buried his face 
in the bilge-sponge. 

"Enough!" I said sternly. "Triplett, when 
can we leave?" 

"Tonight, sir," he answered with his old sub- 
servience. "I've got her completely stored, wa- 
tered and ready." 

"Come on," I said shortly. "We must get 
William Henry Thomas." 

We swam ashore dejectedly, each, I know, con- 
templating suicide. For an hour we visited our 
friends. For them it was but a friendly call, for 
us the agony of parting. 

Gentle, dignified Baahaabaa, shall I ever forget 
you as you stood with your hands resting on my 
shoulder, confidently expecting to see me on the 
morrow! — Merry Hitoia-Upa, kindly Ablutiluti, 
and Moolitonu, oh! that I might send some message 
across the waste of waters to tell your loving hearts 
of the love which still kindles in mine. 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 133 

We did not dare visit our wives. 

At dusk, that our conference might be unnoticed, 
we found our way to the William Henry Thomas 
family tree. 

He came down instantly. All his old deference 
was gone. Something in the straight look of his 
eye told me that his christening had worked a 
tremendous moral change in the man, but I was 
not prepared for its extent. 

"Not me," he said briefly, when we explained the 
necessity of our departure. "Not by a damn sight." 

In vain we reasoned, urged and argued. 

"Don't you want to go back to your own 
people?" asked Swank weakly. 

A mocking laugh was the reply. 

"My own people! Who was I among my own 
people? Just a bunch of first names — no last 
name at all. William Henry Thomas! That's 
a hell of a bunch of names. Who am I here? 
Fatakahala — Flower of Darkness — I guess that'll 
be about all. Good night, gentlemen." 

With the agility of a monkey he bounded up 
his tree and disappeared. I stood at the foot of 
the tree and tried to argue further with him. 
"Remember Henry James," I shouted. "Think of 
Charles Henry George." It was in vain. 



134 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

Swank started after him, but as he reached the 
floor-level a large hola-nut struck him squarely on 
the top of the head and he fell back, stunned. 

Still further depressed we made our way back to 
the Kama, our hearts aching as with the hurt of 
burns, a dull, throbbing torture. 

"Drink?" said Captain Triplett in his most 
treacly manner. He held out a cup of lava-lava, 
the most deadly beverage of the islands. It is 
mixed with phosphorus and glows and tastes like 
hell-fire. I saw his plan and for once was grateful. 
We took the bowl from his hands and filed into 
the tiny cabin — each picking out a corner to fall in. 

In silence we filled our shells and raised them to 
our lips, the last thought of each of us for our lost 
loved ones! 

Hours — perhaps days — later I was dimly aware of 
a soft sobbing sound near my ear. Was it Swank 
crying? And then I realized that it was the 
chuckling of water under the Kama's counter as 
manned by the intrepid Triplett she merrily footed 
it over the wrinkled sea. 



Chapter X 

Once more the "Kawa" foots the sea. Triplett's ob- 
servations and our assistance. The death of the 
compass-plant. Lost! An orgy of desperation. 
Oblivion and excess. The "Kawa" brings us 
home. Our reception in Papeete. A celebration 
at the Tiare. 



Chapter X 

That Triplett's refitting of the Kawa had been 
thorough and seamanlike was amply proven by 
the speed with which she traveled under the favor- 
ing trades. When our saddened but still intrepid 
ship's company reassembled on our limited quarter- 
deck there was no sign of land visible in any direc- 
tion. The horizon stretched about our collective 
heads like an enormous wire halo. It was as if 
the Filberts had never existed. 

The captain alone was cheerful. Joy bubbled 
from that calloused heart of his in striking con- 
trast to the gloom of his companions. Most of 
the time he was our helmsman, his eye cocked aloft 
at the taut halyards of eva-eva, occasionally 
glancing from the sun to the compass-plant which 
bloomed in a shell of fresh water lashed to an 
improvised binnacle. 

At regular intervals he took observations, figured 

137 



138 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

the results, and jotted down our probable course 
on his chart. This document we could scarcely 
bear to look at for upon it our beloved island 
figured prominently. But the course of the Kawa 
interested us. It was a contradictory course and 
even Triplett seemed puzzled by the results of his 
calculations. 

"Can't quite figger it out," he would mutter, 
lowering the astrolabe from its aim at the sun — 
"accordin' to this here jackass-quadrant we orter 
be dee-creesing our latitude — but the answer 
comes out different." 

"Too much jackass and too little quadrant," 
snapped Swank, whose nerves were still like E 
strings. 

Little by little, however, the calm of the great 
ocean invaded our souls and that well-known 
influence (mentioned in so many letters of con- 
solation), "the hand of time," soothed the pain in 
our hearts. I think it was the quiet, self-contained 
Whinney who brought the most reasoned philoso- 
phy to bear on the situation. 

"They will forget," he said one evening, as we 
sat watching the Double Cross slowly revolve 
about its axis. "We must remember that they 
are a race of children. They have no written 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 139 

records of the past, no anticipations of the future. 
They live for the present. Childlike, they will 
grieve deeply, for a day maybe; then another sun 
will rise, Baahaabaa will give another picnic — " 
he sighed deeply. 

"The tragedy of it is that their memories should 
be so short and ours so long," I commented. 

"Yes," agreed Swank, "but I suppose we ought 
to be thankful. They were a wonderful people, 
it was a wonderful experience. And no matter 
what art-juries of the future may do to me, my 
pictures were a success in the Filberts." 

Blessed old Swank, he always looked on the 
bright side of things! 

Day by day matters mended — and our spirits 
rose. We began to think more and more of getting 
in touch with civilization. What a tale we should 
have to tell. How we should put it over the other 
explorers with their trite Solomons and thread- 
bare Marquesas! 

"Where do you think we'll land, Captain?" I 
asked Triplett. 

"Hard to say," he answered, "accordin' to 
compass-plant I'm steerin' a straight course for 
anywhere, but accordin' to the jackass (he had 
dropped the word "quadrant" since Swank's 



BAAHAABAA MOURNING THE DEPARTURE OF HIS FRIENDS 

In all the history of great friendships there is nothing more touching and 
more noble than the beautiful bond which existed between Baahaabaa, the 
simple, primitive chief of the Filbertines and the white men who spent 
the happiest months of their lives on his island and then so strangely van- 
ished. For several days after their departure he spoke no word. But 
every evening at sunset he took his place opposite an opening in the reef 
where the Kawa had first made her appearance and there he sat until dark- 
ness covered him. "Whom are you awaiting?" his chieftains asked him. 
He shook his head mournfully; memories in the Filberts are mercifully short. 
Then placing his hand over his heart he said, "I know not who it is, but 
something is gone — from here." 

Three weeks later when this photograph was taken he was still keeping up 
his lonely vigil. 




X 
o 

Ih 

3 



« 

at 
a 
« 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 141 

thrust) we're spinnin' a web round these seas 
from where we started to nowhere via where 
we be." 

We tried to help him. While the Captain pointed 
his astrolabe sunward and announced the figures 
Whinney and I, like tailors' assistants, took them 
down, Whinney doing the adding, I the subracting 
and Swank the charting. The results were con- 
fusion worse confounded. 

And then a dreadful thing happened. 

The compass-plant sickened and died. 

Whether some sea-water splashed into the shell 
or whether it was just change of environment, I do 
not know. But day by day it drooped and faded. 

I shall never forget the night she breathed her 
last. With white faces we sat about the tiny 
brown bowl in which lay our hope of orientation. 
In Triplett's great rough paw was a fountain-pen 
filler of fresh water which he gently dropped on the 
flowerlet's unturned face. At exactly one-thirty, 
solar time, the tiny petals fluttered faintly and 
closed. 

"She's gone," groaned Triplett, and dashed a 
tear, the size of a robin's egg, from his furrowed 
cheek. In that ghastly light we stared at each 
other. 



142 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

We were lost! 

From then on we gave up all attempts at naviga- 
tion and went in for plain sailing. Taking an 
approximate north from sun and stars we simply- 
headed our tight little craft on her way and let her 
pound. 

A sort of desperate feeling, the panic which 
always comes to those who are lost, led us to wild 
outbursts of gaiety and certain excesses in the 
matter of use of our supplies. Every evening we 
opened fresh gourds of hoopa and made large 
inroads into our stores of pai, pickled gobangs 
and raw crawfish. 

How long this kept up I cannot say, for we had 
given up time reckoning along with other forms of 
arithmetic. But I well remember that it was the 
Captain who had to intervene at last. 

"Look here, boys," he said. "Do you realize 
that you're eatin' an' drinkin' yourselves outer 
house an' home? We got jest a week's grub in 
our lockers, if we go on short rations. Beyond 
that," — he waved his arm toward the ocean, as if 
to say "overboard for ours." 

"Look here!" cried Swank excitedly, "do you 
suppose I want to go in for one of these slow starva- 
tion stunts, perishing miserably on half a biscuit 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 143 

a day! O man! that's old stuff. Every explorer 
that ever wrote has done that, you know — falling 
insensible in the boat, drifting around for weeks, 
being towed into port, sunbaked, like mummies. 
Not on your life! What I propose is one final 
party — let's eat the whole outfit tonight, hook, 
line and sinker." 

We carried the proposition by acclamation, 
except Triplett who spat sourly to windward, a 
thing few men can do. And we were as good as 
our word. 

Late into the night we roared our sea-songs over 
the indifferent ocean, pledging our lost ones, sing- 
ing, laughing and weeping with the abandon of 
lost sheep. With Triplett it was a case of forcible 
feeding for he kept trying to secrete his share 
of the menu in various parts of his person, slipping 
fistsful of crawfish in his shirt-bosom and pouring 
his cup of hoopa into an old fire-extinguisher which 
rolled in the ship's waist. Pinioning his arms we 
squirted the fiery liquid between his set jaws, after 
which he too gave himself up to unrestrained 
celebration. 

Our supplies lasted for two days, and for two 
days our wild orgy continued. 

We have all read of the hunter lost in trackless 



144 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

forest wilds who finally falls exhausted on his 
pommel and is brought safely home by his loose- 
reined mustang. 

That is exactly what happened to us. I know 
I am departing from literary custom when I 
abandon the picture of slow starvation, with its 
attractive episodes of shoe-eating, sea-drinking, 
madness, cannibalism and suicide which make up 
the final scene of most tales of adventure. But I 
must tell the truth. 

While we caroused, our helm was free, the tiller 
banging, sail flapping, boom gibing, blocks rattling. 
It was as if we had thrown the reins of guidance 
on the neck of our staunch little seahorse and she, 
superbly sturdy creature, proceeded to bring us 
home. On we went across the waters, steered 
only by fate. 

In the midst of a rousing rendering of "Hail, hail, 
the gang's all here," we were startled by a grind- 
ing crash that threw us in a heap on the floor. 
Down the companion way burst a flood of green 
water through which we struggled to the steeply 
slanting deck, where on our port bow I glimpsed 
the picture of a pleasant sandy beach, trees, ships, 
docks, a large white hotel and hundreds of people — 
white and brown, in bathing! In one thundering 



THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 145 

burst of amazement the truth swept over me; 
we were in the harbor of Papeete! In the next 
instant strong arms seized me and I was borne 
through the breakers and up the beach. 

Well, they were all there! O'Brien — dear old 
Fred, and Martin Johnson, just in from the 
Solomons with miles of fresh film; McFee, stopping 
over night on his way to the West Indies; Bill 
Beebe, with his pocket full of ants; Safroni, 
"Mac" MacQuarrie, Freeman, "Cap" Bligh— 
thinner than when I last saw him in Penang — and, 
greatest surprise of all, a bluff, harris-tweeded 
person who peered over the footboard of my bed 
and roared in rough sea-tones: 

"Well, as I live and breathe, Walter Traprock!" 

It was Joe Conrad. 

I told my story that night in the dining-room 
of the Tiare, or, at least, I told just enough of it to 
completely knock my audience off their seats. For 
many good reasons I avoided exact details of 
latitude, longitude, and the like. 

No island is sacred among explorers. 

"Gentlemen," I said, rather neatly, "I cannot 
give you the Filberts' latitude or longitude. But 
I will say that their pulchritude is 100!" 

The place was in an uproar. They plied me 



146 THE CRUISE OF THE KAWA 

with questions, and Dr. Funk's! It was a night 
of rejoicing and triumph which I shall never forget, 
and which only Fred O'Brien can describe. 

The later results are too well known to need 
recital, Swank's success, Whinney's position in the 
Academy of Sciences, my own recognition by the 
Royal Geographic Society. 

The tight little Kawa still rides the seas, Trip- 
lett in command. She is kept fully stocked, ready 
to sail at a moment's notice. Soon, perhaps, the 
wanderlust will seize us again and, throwing down 
our lightly won honors, we will once more head for 
the trackless trail. 

But we will not make for the Filberts. Too ; 
tender are the memories which wreathe those opal 
isles, too irrevocable the changes which must have 
taken place. Rather let us preserve their un- 
dimmed beauty in our hearts. 

On our next trip we have agreed, all of us, that 
by far the best plan will be to leave the choice of 
our route, destination and return (if any) to the 
Kawa herself. 



OTHER BOOKS BY WALTER E. TRAPROCK 



Who's Hula in Hawaii 1899 

Dances, Near-dances and No-dances of the 

Far East 1902 

Through Borneo on a Bicycle 1904 

Curry-Dishes for Moderate Incomes 1907 

Sobs from the South Seas — Poems 1912 

Around Russia on Roller Skates 1917 

Crazy With Tahiti — Translations from Native 

Folklore 1918 

How to Explore, and What 1919 

Note — Most of the above are out of print. The 
author still has a few copies of "Curry-Dishes for 
Moderate Incomes" which may be had at the 
publication price, $200. 



SEE THE 

SOUTH SEAS 



S. S. Love-nest, sailing from San Francisco, 
June 1st, Sept. 3rd, Dec. 2nd and March 7th. 
Three months' cruise. 

See the cute cannibals. Excursion rates for 
round trip with stops at all important islands. 
Everybody's doing it. Don't be a back 
number. 



SEE THE SOUTH SEAS 

Rates and diagrams upon application to 

W. E. TRAPROCK 

54 W. 45th Street, New York City 



PRIVILEGE 

BY 

MICHAEL SADLEIR 

"The story of the decline and fall of Whern is 
always poignant and never dismal. The romance is 
of the stuff of the story, seen by an author who 
knows the world we live in. . . . The picture, for 
all of its rich colour and noble gesture, is essentially 
true. And it is full of that queer fascination exerted 
by greatness that is passing or has passed." — Times 
Literary Supplement 

Hamilton Fyfe in the DAILY MAIL says: 

" About ' Privilege ' I find it hard to write with- 
out exaggeration. It is so truly imagined, this story 
of the decline of an ancient family ; so skilfully pre- 
sented, and written with so sure a hand, that we 
must put its author among the most distinguished 
not only of our younger but of all our novelists. 
. . . The entire book is a piece of literature, satis- 
fying from every point of view." 

PUNCH says: 

" I can imagine few books that would give to 
some modern Rip van Winkle a better understand- 
ing of the attitude of aristocratic youth towards the 
life of today. ... A novel both individual and 
touched with a dignity too rare in these days of 
slovenly fiction." 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK LONDON 



ERIK DORN 

BY 

BEN HECHT 

H. L. MENCKEN says: 

"Disorderly, iconoclastic and novel in form, 
'Dorn' is one of the most stimulating and orig- 
inal stories I have encountered in many days. 
It would be hard to exceed the brilliancy of 
some of its episodes. It has upon me the 
effect of a gaudy and fantastic panorama, in 
which the movement is almost acrobatic and 
the color is that of a Kaleidoscope." 

BURTON RASCOE says: 

"Ben Hecht, among all the young men of the 
post-war generation of American Novelists, 
has, it seems to me, the most opulent equip- 
ment in the matter of intelligence, experience 
and imaginative power. The verbal patterns, 
the pungently evocative word combinations, 
the strange richness of metaphor of 'Erik 
Dorn,' if for no other reason, cause it to stand 
out as a distinct new model in mechanics of 
expression." 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

New York London 



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